


Learning how to be free

by tashaxxxxxx



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Abuse, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Warlord Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 86,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tashaxxxxxx/pseuds/tashaxxxxxx
Summary: Jaskier is a badly beaten omega belonging to King Vizimir with little hope for the future.  He had even less hope when he’s told he’s going to be given away to the Witchers, bloodthirsty beasts, as assurance that Redania will keep to the peace treaty.Jaskier has little hope of surviving the next few days, let alone of finding freedom and love.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 219
Kudos: 954





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: mentions of rape and past miscarriages please do not ready if uncomfortable.

Geralt stalked into the royal throne room of Redania, flanked closely by Lambert and Eskel. A further 20 Witchers followed behind, all wearing identical looks of indifference. Geralt knew they were an opposing sight. Despite the 50 royal guards stationed in the royal throne room, he could still see the apprehension on the royal and nobles faces in front of him.

No wonder really. Tretagor was currently surrounded by an armed force of Witchers, 1000 strong. There should have been more but despite Witchers capability in the field of battle, it was still possible to kill them. They had only suffered around 50 off casualties in the few weeks this war lasted but it was enough for Geralt’s blood to boil. it had all been unnecessary. So bloody unnecessary.

Redania had signed a peace treaty with the Witchers after the Witcher army had destroyed Kaedwan’s armed forces. Like most of the northern kingdoms, they had bowed their heads and accepted the Witchers power in Kaedwen. That had been 50 years ago, 50 years after Kaedwen had turned against the Witchers and attacked Kaer Morhen, murdering dozens of Witchers, and hundred of the Witcher recruits. Few of the wolf clan had survived, those on the path the only ones to do so. But enough had survived to mass the Witchers together, to turn against the humans who had slaughtered their brethren.

It had been a hard 50 years. 50 years of adapting to life as warlords and not paid monster hunters. Even harder for Geralt having been appointed Warlord of the Witchers by not only the school of the wolf but all the other schools as well. But it had stopped a full massacre of the Witchers, and if the life of a Warlord was the only price to pay Geralt would pay it gladly.

And then King Vizimir had taken the throne and began plotting the Witchers demise. They hadn’t realised it, hadn’t expected anyone to be foolish enough to attack the Witchers. Not when the whole continent were terrified of them. And then only 2 months ago Redania had attacked and the Witchers had been forced to defend themselves. When they had beat Redania back from their borders they had had little choice but to march to war, to remind not only Redania but the whole of the Nothern Kingdoms why attacking the Witchers was not the smartest thing to do.

And now they were here. Standing in a large, overly ornate throne room waiting for the King of Redania to meet with them and sign the new peace treaty. A peace treaty that would ensure Redania’s complete subjugation to the Witchers, and a peace treaty that would involve taking what Yennefer’s called insurance to ensure Redania didn’t break it.

Geralt hadn’t been pleased. Had been fucking furious if he was honest when Yennefer’s and Vesemir had told him what they had to do to ensure Redania followed the peace treaty. Had been even more furious when Eskel and then even Lambert had agreed with them. He didn’t want Redania royalty in Karen Morhen. He didn’t want anyone in Karen Morhen that wasn’t loyal to the Witchers. Didn’t want to run the risk of them escaping and passing information onto Redania. But he had no choice.

Geralt surveyed the nobles in front of them. They were all afraid, they stunk of it and it grated Geralt’s teeth to know Karen Morhen would soon stink of whatever noble he was forced to take back with him. It wasn’t one of the nobles in the room though, that Geralt knew for certain. For start none were dressed for travel and for a second while they stunk of fear, they didn’t stink of the all encompassing terrifying fear Geralt knew would surround whichever noble was chosen.

As they stood there, waiting for King Vizimir to come and sign the fucking peace treaty, Geralt caught a faint whiff of flowers. Wildflowers, the kind you’d smell when walking through a meadow on a summers evening after it had just rained. It filled ever part of him and Geralt had to force himself to stand stoic despite the sudden need washing through him to find the source of that heady scent.

It was an omega. That much was obvious. It was rare for Witchers to be in close vicinity to any omegas. Most omegas were terrified of them, Witchers had a reputation for being cruel and evil to their omega partners. A complete fabrication, as most Witchers tales were. Geralt himself had never even met an omega past scenting glimpses of them when walking through a village.

But this omega was coming closer. Soon footsteps could be heard, 10 sets of footsteps to be prcise but Geralt could almost pinpoint the omegas footsteps. Light and steady on the corridor while the other 9 sets were heavy thuds. A door opposite where the Witchers stood opened and the 10 footsteps walked through.

One was very obviously King Vizimir, the man wore an angry scowl n his face and was dressed in elaborate finery that rivalled all the others in the court. The second, obviously his son if the scowl on his face matching King Vizimir’s was anything to go by. The third a beta woman, elegantly dressed with a crown on her head. The other 6 footsteps belonged to guards who fanned out across the room. Lambert glared at them as they walked past and might have said something rude about the extra guards if Aidan hadn’t punched him in the arm to stop him talking.

But Geralt wasn’t paying attention to that. No, his eyes were fixed on the omega who walked a few steps behind King Vizmir, not that he had a choice Geralt noted bristled in anger. The omega was dressed in simple travel clothing that didn’t fully fit him well with brown boots that looked like they’d last a few days in the wild before they were worn to thin to be of much further use. His brown hair was tousled and bright blue eyes cast downwards, not looking at anyone in the room. But that wasn’t what had Geralt seething. No, what had him seething was the ornate golden collar chafing against the omegas neck, he could see the angry red skin from here, and the leather leash the King held taught in one hand. 

No one said a word as the King walked to his throne before handing the leash to a guard who took it from the Kings hand and pulled harshly on it. Geralt growled angrily as he saw the omega’s eyes bulge, hand coming to claw at the collar as he quicker his footsteps to follow him. The guard didn’t low, pulling the omega along unheeding of the choked noises he made behind him. They stopped a few steps from the Witchers, where the guard pushed the omega to his knees in front of the confused and angry Witchers.

“What is this?” Eskel growled, voice low and angry.

“As agreed, your insurance for our peace treaty.” King Vizimir stated, eyes filled with cold hate as he stared at the Witcher.

“Our agreement was a member of the royal family.” Eskel pointed out. Geralt’s eyes came to settle on the omega. He detected a slight hint of fear but the omega didn’t show it outwardly. he was staring at the ground, body tense with a resigned look along his shoulders.

“And he is. My omegan mate.” King Vizimir stated blandly. “A member of the royal family.”

“You’d give us a your fucking omega?” Lambert snarled, voice incredulous. Omega’s were precious things, ones that all alpha’s guarded jealously against others.

“You asked for a member of my family. I chose the most dispensable one.” King Vizimir stated, eyes going to the omega before flickering to Geralt. “I assure you he’d housetrained and will please you well.” 

Geralt walked over to the omega who hadn’t lifted his eyes for a moment. He had the lease in his hand and when Geralt was stood in front of him, he lifted it up as if to give the lease to Geralt. Geralt growled in anger, seeing the minute flinch in the omega’s shoulders but otherwise he remained perfectly still.

“We’re leaving.” Geralt growled, moving past the omega to glare straight at King Vizimir. “Do not make us come back here.” Geralt was satisfied by the flinch the King of Redania gave as he moved back to the omega.

Geralt paused in front of the omega again, looking at him properly now. He was young, couldn’t be more than early 20’s and he was skinny. The clothes looking overgrown and baggy on the boy and not warm in the slightest. They’d have to fix that, it was nearing winter and the journey back to later Morhen would be hard. The omega still had the lease held up for Geralt to take but Geralt just snarled angrily at it. 

He bent down, hands going to collar, cursing the way the omega flinched violently as Geralt undid the clasp holding the collar together. “You can’t.” King Vizimir shouted but was cut off by Lambert stepping forward with his hand. On his sword, Aidan close by his heels.

“We can do whatever the fuck we want. Unless you want us to burn this castle to the ground.” lambert snarled. Vizimir sank back to his seat, fear rolling off him even as he turned an angry shade of anger and embarrassment.

The omega lifted bright blue eyes to look at Geralt, confusion in them as the collar dropped from around his neck. His neck was indeed red and raw looking. Geralt would have to get Yennefer to look at it when they next made camp. “Come on.” Geralt growled, motioning for the omega to stand and follow the departing Witchers. When he did, Geralt followed close behind.

He walked with a slight limp and Geralt felt anger boil deep inside him. It took everything he had not to turn around and kill the so called King of Redania behind him.

......

“Can you ride?” A scarred Witcher grunted at Jaskier. They were in the stables of the palace, further from the castle than Jaskier had been since he’d been brought here 8 years ago. The noise and chaos surrounding him was overwhelming. Horses neighing, Witchers yelling at each other as they jumped on their own horses and started down the road leading out of the city. 

“You can ride with me.” The White Wolf’s voice growling behind him had Jaskier forcing back a shudder. He would not show his fear among these men. He would not show weakness. He knew to well that showing weakness only made it so much worse. Though, in Jaskier’s experience it was all worse so what did it matter. 

Jaskier said nothing, keeping his head lowered as a large mare was led over to them. He had learnt in his first few weeks of presenting as an omega that looking at an alpha or beta directly would result in severe punishment. It was a trait he’d found very helpful in King Vizimir’s court where the slightest disobedience was punished severely. He shuddered just at the memory of those punishments. Of the whipping post he was tied, the feeling of the whips lashes stinging across his back however many times Vizimir had decided it would take that day to make Jaskier learn his lesson. He never did, but then there was so many lessons to remember and Vizimir enjoyed changing them on a whim just to watch Jaskier suffer.

“Give me your hand.” Jaskier looked up and saw the White Wolf’s hand was held out towards him. Jaskier hesitated for a moment but quickly forced himself into action. Disobeying his new alpha would only make the next few hours oh so worse. He’d found that out the hard way upon his arrival in Vizimir’s court.

The white wolf lifted Jaskier easily, Jaskier letting out a small squeak in surprise as Geralt pulled him onto the horse. He settled Jaskier behind him, something Jaskier was eternally grateful for even as he forced aside the pain filling him as his bottom made contact with the horse. Vizimir and the others had had their fun before giving Jaskier over to the Witchers. The pain they’d cause would only threaten with the horse ride but Jaskier supposed it didn’t matter. The Witchers would want to test out their new omega soon enough anyway. If he was lucky the rumours of Witchers fucking their omegas so brutally they died would be true. He could endure The upcoming pain if it meant a swift end. But then, Jaskier had never been so lucky.

The white wolf hummed in front of him, hands going behind Jaskier to guide the omega’s hands around his waist. “Hold on or you’ll fall.” The white wolf growled and Jaskier did as instructed. His arms circled behind the white wolf and he felt his heart spike in fear before pushing it down. The white wolf’s abdomen was like steel. He shivered at the thought of the damage this man could do with just one hit.

The white wolf hummed again before clicking his tongue and the mare was setting off. Jaskier winced as the mare trotted away, the mares footsteps jolting on every step and causing his numerous injuries to flare up. “Are you ok?’ The white wolf’s voice growled with what Jaskier thought might be...concern? No, it couldn’t be concern.

“I’m fine sir.” Jaskier whispered, body tending for a hit. Vizimir had liked to do that, demand an answer and punish Jaskier when he spoke, or punish him when he didn’t answer. But the white wolf did none of those things, only hummed and continued riding.

Jaskier settled himself behind the Witcher, body tensing at every step but refusing to acknowledge the pain. He’d learnt that too in the first few months at Vizimir’s court, listening to the pain only made it worse. Easier to pretend it wasn’t even there.

.......

Geralt frowned as he listened to the omega’s soft huffs of pain. They’d been riding for the last few hours, putting as much distance as they could from Tretegor as possible. The Witchers army had dispersed into small groups, all heading in their own direction back to Kaedwen and Kaer Morhen. Geralt was with 30 other Witchers, including the omega taking the most direct route back to the Witcher home. Geralt knew it would have been easier to bring Yennefer and Triss with them so they could portal them back to Kaer Morhen but the two sorceresses had been called to Aretuza at the same time as the Witchers headed to the peace treaty signing in Tretegor. 

The omega huffed again, arms tightening slightly around Geralt and Geralt hummed in anger. He could smell the blood, he hadn’t been able to before but with how close the omega was pressed against his back it was hard not to. And he could smell the omegas pain, pain that had only been growing as the miles wore on.

Glancing at the sky, Geralt grunted. The sun was beginning to set, if they were alone they could have continued but the omega needed rest. Rest and care. “We’ll make camp here.” Geralt grunted, letting the other Witchers begin the tasks of setting up camp while he swung himself off Roach.

“Here.” Geralt growled, taking one of the omegas hands and swinging him off Roach. As the omega’s feet touched the floor, he groaned, legs buckling and he would have fallen if not for Geralt wrapping a strong arm around his waist. “Lean on me.” Geralt grunted, half carrying the omega over to a near by tree stump.

He pushed the omega to sitting, cursing the fact he wouldn’t even look Geralt in the eye. “Where does it hurt?” Geralt demanded, staring at the omega intensely.

“I’m fine.” The omega’s voice was soft and croaky. Possibly from lack of use and possibly for another darker reason. Geralt pushed the thought from his mind. The omega needed care, not an angry Witcher. 

“Eskel.” Geralt growled, motioning for his brother to come over. Eskel came over, bending down to the floor so he was at Jaskier’s eye level.

“Are you hurt?” Eskel’s voice was filled with kindness, none of the gruff anger in Geralt’s own tone. His brother was much better at comforting than he was.

“I’m fine.” The omega breathed, a small tear running down his cheek which he angrily wiped away.

“We can help.” Eskel rested a hand on the omega’s knee, meant as a comforting gesture but the omega tensed under Eskel’s hand. His whole body seemed to vibrate as abstract terror overtook the scent of wildflowers, making the whole air around him smell sour with decay. The omega’s breaths started coming out in panicked gasps as tears feel from his eyes into the grassy ground.

“I...”I’m fine...I’m sorry...I...I didn’t meant for you to stop...please forgive me.” The omega whispered, fear and pain lacing his tone.

Eskel glanced back at Geralt, both alpha’s sharing a look. The camp was silent around them, all the Witchers looking at the omega with worry in their eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” Eskel said, voice calm despite the situation as he took a few shuffled steps back from the omega, still remaining knelt. “We don’t have to look at your injuries if you don’t want.” The omega seemed to breath a sigh of relief as his shoulders hunched around his ears. “How about some food?”

This got a reaction from the omega, though not one Geralt liked. The boy actually startled, head snapping upwards, blue eyes filled with confusion and hope. “Ffffood?” The omega stuttered, looking between Geralt and Eskel in a mixture of hope and confusion.

“Yes, we’ll get a bowl of broth for you once we’ve set up camp.” Eskel stated, Geralt turned to glare at the Witchers pointedly to get them moving again.

........

Jaskier huddled in on himself as he watched the Witchers work. The scarred Witcher and white wolf has disappeared to help with setting up camp. Jaskier knew he should be grateful for the respite but all he felt was his growing anxiety as he watched the fire being built and a bully Witcher begin setting up a large cooking pot over the roaring fire.

There wouldn’t be enough food for him, Jaskier knew that. Despite the scarred Witchers promise, he knew his place in the hierarchy. He ate when the alpha’s and beta’s had eaten. If there wasn’t enough left for him then there wasn’t enough left. His stomach growled at the thought, reminding Jaskier he hadn’t eaten for the last few days. Vizmir hadn’t wanted to waste good food when Jaskier would be given to the Witchers in a few days time.

The wind blew past Jaskier making him shiver. He huddled closer to himself, wondering if the Witchers would be at least kind enough to give him a blanket for the night instead of leaving him open to the elements. The cynical part of his mind reminded Jaskier that it didn’t really matter what the Witchers gave him. He’d be naked soon and being fucked by the alpha’s here. That would warm him up at least. As long as they didn’t leave him to sleep naked with nothing to cover himself from the elements.

Jaskier shivered at the thought, eyes darting around the campsite. he could run. The Witchers were to occupied to notice him sitting there, they wouldn’t notice if he ran. Except, if he did run where would he go? Back to Tretegor, not bloody likely. Lettenhove? No, his Father had sold him to Vizimir without a second thought. He could try and find a nearby village, but Jaskier wasn’t a fool. Claimed or otherwise an omega wandering alone would have every alpha within a hundred miles snarling and fighting over him.

Jaskier rubbed his fingers over the mating bond sitting on his scent gland. It burnt, it always burnt. Vizimir had given it to him the first heat Jaskier had at Redania. He shivered against the memory of burning fire, more like a brand than anything else. He’d read that mating bonds were meant to be overwhelmingly good, filled with love an affection. His bond with Vizimir had never felt like that, only filled with pain and pain and more pain.

“Come on omega.” A large burly Witcher grunted at Jaskier who jumped up in surprise. He hadn’t noticed the Witcher coming close and silently berated himself for not paying attention.

He was led to the fire where the large burly Witcher immediately sat next to another equally burly Witcher who slapped him on the back and passed him a steaming bowl of broth. Jaskier looked around and saw all the Witchers had similar bowls and his mouth watered just at the smell of it. “Here.” The scarred Witcher from before growled, pushing a bowl of steaming broth into Jaskier’s hands before settling down by the fire.

Jaskier stared at the broth with something akin to amazement. It was hot in his hands, fuck he hadn’t had a hot meal for years not since leaving Lettenhove. And the smell, it smelt fantastic. Nothing like the gruel and mouldy food he’d been given in Tretegor to ensure he didn’t starve to death. He was eating it before he was aware what he was doing. Spooning the broth into his mouth in fast furious gulps, the meat and vegetables being swallowed near whole in his desperation to get it down lest the Witchers take it from him.

“Fuck, slow down.” A shaved headed Witcher shouted at him but Jaskier didn’t listen. His stomach roiled in protest and then the little food Jaskier had managed to eat burnt back up his throat. He coughed and spluttered, eyes watering at the acidic taste in his mouth.

“Shit.” One of the Witchers growled and Jaskier whimpered, fear flooding him as he dropped to his knees, exhaustion and fear and every other feeling he’d been feeling since leaving Tretegor overwhelmed him. Thick tears dripped down from his face, whole body tensing ready for the punishment he would receive for this. 

The white wolf crouched down next to him, hands held up and movements slow as if he was approaching a wild animal. His right hand drew up and Jaskier whimpered, flinching back and curling himself into a ball. it would hurt less if he was smaller, protecting the most vulnerable parts of himself. 

“Fuck.” The white wolf’s voice gravelly as he swore. “No one’s going to hurt you.” And Jaskier felt himself sob again. Hurt him, everyone always hurt him. That was what he was there for. To be hurt, to be be fucked. To be bred full and then...then...Jaskier wailed as his mind dropped to where he never wanted it to go. Remembering bloodied thighs and screams of pain as he miscarried again and again and again all because Vizimir and his nobles couldn’t just let the omega be. Couldn’t just leave the omega alone long enough for the pregnancy to come to term.

“Fuck, Eskel what the fuck do we do?” The white wolf again, voice panicked but Jaskier wasn’t paying attention, mind whirling as memories of all 8 years of pain and loss and pain again surrounded Jaskier. He couldn’t do this, not again. He couldn’t be a brood mare, a fucking sex toy for someone’s twisted pleasure. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t survive it again, he just knew he couldn’t.

Voices filtered above Jaskier and then a hazy blackness surrounded him, promising calm and peace. Jaskier fell into it willingly.

.........

Geralt watched as axii took hold of the omega and he collapsed to the ground limp and unmoving. Silence reigned through the camp as Geralt looked down on the tiny omega huddled unconscious on the ground. He looked so small, so fragile and vulnerable. Fuck, how could anyone hurt someone like this. How could anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time inn too long Jaskier woke warm and comfortable. He was so used to waking on the floor of Vizimir’s room where the King left him at, or being woken to the King fucking brutally into him, that it took him a few moments to even realise he was awake. It felt like a dream. There was warmth across his face, like he was facing a roaring fire, his body was curled under a mound of soft warm furs. The bed he was resting on wasn’t exactly comfortable but after years of sleeping either on a cold stone floor or crushed under the weight of Vizimir with a cock in his arse it felt like heaven.

“Morning.” The gruff voice of the White Wolf broke through Jaskier’s thoughts and all the comfort he had felt disappeared in an instant. He froze, body tensing as he waited for the inevitable anger, with punishment soon to follow. Jaskier forced himself to push away the covers, rather than try and bury himself under them, hiding would only make things worse.

Glancing around him, he felt a lump forming in his throat. The camp was empty of all Witchers, Jaskier was lying in front of the roaring fire. The white wolf himself was sitting on a log close to Jaskier, amber gaze intense as he watched Jaskier get out of the make-shift bed. Jaskier hadn’t looked properly before but in the light of morning, he noticed the white hair of the white wolf, the blazing amber eyes that looked as if they were looking into Jaskier’s very soul, and the black studded armour covering large muscles. He remembered yesterday, arms wrapped around the white wolfs waist and gulped. Here was a man made of full raw power. Jaskier had always thought the whippings the King ordered done to him hurt, Jaskier had no doubt whatever punishment this Witcher gave him would be so much worse.

Forcing back panicked breaths, Jaskier forced himself out of the mattress. He walked over to the white wolf, seeing the surprise in those amber eyes before remembering he wasn’t supposed to look an alpha in the eye. Jaskier dropped to his knees in front of the white wolf, dropping his head in submission as he forced away the fear and anxiety flowing through him. There was nothing he could do, being afraid would only make whatever happened next so much worse.

“My apologies sir.” Jaskier spoke, wincing at the rough quality of his voice. “For my behaviour yesterday and for having you wait for me.”

“Wait for you?” The white wolf growled. His voice was low and deep, a voice Jaskier should by rights be terrified of but…there was a gentleness under the deep growl.

“For…for holding you up in your journey. Sir.” Jaskier stuttered. It was obvious wasn’t it? The White Wolf had been forced to wait for the errant omega to wake while his men left without him. No doubt the White Wolf had chosen to remain so he could punish Jaskier personally.

But instead of punishing Jaskier, or ordering the omega to move into an easier position for the alpha to administrate the punishment, the White Wolf only grunted. “Sit.” He growled. It took Jaskier a few moments to register the words but as soon as he did he scrambled to sit on the log next to the White Wolf. It left them very close together, Jaskier’s leg brushing the White Wolf’s and making the omega’s breath hitched. Alpha’s made the first move, never omega’s.

The White Wolf grunted before shuffling a little further down the log so there was at least a few meters between the two. “Eat.” He growled, shoving a bowl towards Jaskier. Jaskier’s hands took the bowl without him really thinking about it. “Sorry it’s cold. I can heat it on the fire.” The White Wolf growled, picking up a stick to poke the fire back to its roaring flame as if to prove his statement true.

Jaskier just stared at the now cold bowl of porridge. It was thick and despite being cold still smelt delicious, the faint scent of honey drifting to Jaskier. He felt tears welling in his eyes at the scent. He hadn’t had honey since…since, fuck he couldn’t even remember. “I don’t understand.” Jaskier whispered, words out of his mouth before he could stop them. He tensed automatically, waiting for the blow to come but when none did Jaskier risked a glance at the White Wolf. His amber eyes were looking at Jaskier with regret and sadness.

“My name’s Geralt.” The White Wolf, no Geralt stated. His eyes drifted over Jaskier, a frown on his face before grunting and turning to the fire. “Fuck, Eskel’s always been better with words. Eat.” Geralt growled again and Jaskier took the spoon up on instinct.

The porridge tasted divine but Jaskier forced back the instinct to devour it like he had yesterday. Jaskier ate until his stomach gave a small roil of protest. Glancing down at the still half eaten bowl, Jaskier debated if it was worth risking being sick again to eat the rest but decided against it. He’d always hated being sick and he still hadn’t been punished for his sickness yesterday. Best not to incur more of Geralt’s wrath. “Water?” Geralt growled shoving a waterskin at Jaskier who took it with shaking hands. 

Jaskier took a long drink, the cool liquid feeling like heaven down his scratchy throat and he drank nearly all the water down. He hadn’t realised he’d been so thirsty, but then it had been over a day since he’d had anything to drink. When he finished, Geralt took the waterskin with a frown on his face. “What do I call you?” Geralt growled and Jaskier ducked his head.

“Anything you wish sir. His Grace called me Omega or whore or some word of the variety…” Jaskier hesitated, the words sticking in his throat but he forced them out despite the shame curling in his belly at the words. “His Grace ordered me to please you in any way I could…that…that I was yours.”

“You’re not.” Geralt growled, anger rolling off him, making Jaskier shiver and duck his head in fear. Geralt growled again before speaking. “I mean you’re not mine. Or Vizimir’s, fuck you’re not anyone’s.”

“I…I’m an omega sir, I have to belong to someone.” Jaskier whispered. It had been what he’d been taught since presenting. It had been what his Father said when he’d sent Jaskier to Redania. It was an honour to be chosen as the Kings omega, even if the Kings omega was little more than a brood mare. A job Jaskier had never been able to accomplish. He pushed aside the thought angrily, refusing to go down that path.

Geralt hummed, still staring at Jaskier with a frown on his face. “My name is Geralt, call me Geralt.” Jaskier glanced up at Geralt, confusion flooding him. An alpha, and not just any alpha the feared White Wolf, leader of the Witchers was giving a pathetic omega the privilege of calling him by his name. “What do I call you?” Geralt growled.

Jaskier hesitated. His parents had called him Julian, that was the name he’d been born to. Vizimir had called him whore, omega, boy, useless…any degrading name he could think of really. Jaskier had…Jaskier had chosen the name Jaskier for himself. It was a name chosen for another life, for a dream were instead of forced to kneel (oftentimes naked) next to the King while bards and performers brightened the halls with music, he was the one to be brightening the halls with music. He’d trained in the lute so many years ago now, had been heading to Oxenfurt before…before…

“Jaskier.” Jaskier answered, cringing away from the Witcher as he waited for him to laugh at him for such a weak and girlish name. A name that meant flower wasn’t suitable for anyone to wear, except maybe a pathetic useless omega.

Except Geralt just hummed, turning back to the fire. “The others have gone hunting.” Geralt grunted. “They’ll be gone until nightfall.” Jaskier didn’t reply, not knowing if Geralt wanted an answer or not. Geralt looked at him, face considering before he spoke next. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“Happen?” Jaskier asked, voice filled with confusion. Geralt just hummed while Jaskier looked at him with confusion and trepidation. If he said the wrong thing would Geralt hurt him, or would Geralt do to him what Jaskier said he expected to happen. But if he lied would he be punished. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind whirled over the possibilities. It was all just so, so, so fucking overwhelming. He didn’t understand what Geralt wanted from him, what Geralt was going to do him.

Geralt hummed again, face turning into a frown. “Are you still in pain?” Geralt asked, dragging Jaskier from his spiralling thoughts. 

“I…I…” Jaskier stuttered, making Geralt frown again. “Yes.” Jaskier whispered. In truth he was always in pain but the pain had only gotten worse from the hours on the horse yesterday.

Geralt hummed, standing up which caused Jaskier to flinch. Geralt looked at him, frown still in place before walking over to a saddle bag. “May I look?” Geralt asked, coming to settle the saddlebag on the log before crouching next to Jaskier. Jaskier hesitated, fear flooding him. Was Geralt using this as a pretence to get him naked, as a pretence to touch him, hurt him? “I won’t hurt you. I promise.” And despite every instinct in Jaskier’s body telling him not to trust this burly brooding alpha crouched next to him. Jaskier nodded.

…………..

Geralt watched with a straight face as Jaskier pulled first his doublet and then his shirt off. He had to force down the angry snarl that tried to appear on his face as he looked at Jaskier’s torso. Bruises marred nearly every section of Jaskier’s skin, all various shades of purple and yellow some obviously fresh and others new. There were bruises up and down his too thin arms, marks made from harsh grips, grips not doubt designed to hurt as well as hold the omega in place. Geralt could nearly count every one of Jaskier’s ribs on his too thin body, and could see the ribs that had been broken and never given a chance to heal properly clearly. Jaskier neck he’d already known was agitated and raw from the collar, but with his shirt off it gave Geralt an impeded view of the mating mark. It was red and angry, the skin swollen around it on Jaskier’s neck as if it had been recently made. The tops of Jaskier’s shoulders and sides of his ribs were covered in scars, scars obviously made by a whip. Geralt didn’t need to look at the omegas back to know it would be a cross work of bruises and scars.

“I thought you were his omega.” Geralt growled, unable to keep the anger from his voice despite the way Jaskier flinched from the words. 

“I…I am.” Jaskier whispered, arms coming to cross over his torso as if to hide himself from view. Geralt felt his face soften from the angry glare it had been before as he looked at the tears in Jaskier’s eyes. This omega needed care and comfort, not Geralt’s anger. “Do you want my breeches off as well?” Jaskier whispered, voice tight with emotion. 

Geralt glancing at the bruises that disappeared down Jaskier’s abdomen to hidden under his breeches. He had no doubt Jaskier’s legs would be of a similar bruised pattern work, not to mention any damage to his groin, bottom and…fuck. Geralt knew he had to see the damage, could still smell the slight hint of blood around Jaskier coming from a source that made Geralt feel sick to his stomach. But he could see the anxiety rolling of Jaskier and he didn’t want to force the omega into something he wasn’t comfortable in.

“No. I’ll give you an ointment for…” Geralt trailed off even as Jaskier’s head ducked to looking at the floor, shame written clearly there. “You can put it on without me there.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier whispered and that simple thank you had Geralt’s heart tearing into shred. No one should have to say thank you for a simple act of common decency.

Geralt moved behind Jaskier first, surveying the damage to his back. His back as Geralt had suspected was covered in raised scars. Some of the scars were still new, red and angry looking. He brought the bowl of warm water and rag to him, using the rag to clean Jaskier’s back. The omega whimpered in front of him, back tense as Geralt worked as methodically and gently as possible. Despite the gentleness though by the time he was done Jaskier’s whole body was tense with pain.

“This will help with the pain.” Geralt growled, rubbing in a poultice over the wounds. It would keep the newer wounds free of infection as well as offering a soothing ache to the no doubt tender muscles of Jaskier’s back. As he rubbed the poultice in he felt Jaskier slowly begin to relax and felt himself breath a sigh of relief.

Moving to the front, Geralt worked slowly. First he wiped Jaskier’s torso, ignoring the fact Jaskier had begun to cry silently as Geralt worked. When he was done he wrapped Jaskier’s ribs in bandages. Next he moved to Jaskier’s neck, rubbing in the same poultice as Jaskier’s back in there. Jaskier’s breath stuttered under Geralt’s fingers, Geralt could hear his heart racing from here but the omega didn’t try to stop him. Geralt worked as quickly as he could before turning to the mating mark.

He glowered at it for a few moments before beginning to rub the poultice over it. How could an alpha give away his omega? Fuck, how could an alpha treat their omega this way? Omega’s were meant to be cherished, loved. Not beaten and broken and…fuck, not treated the way Jaskier was.

As if sensing Geralt’s thoughts, Jaskier started to speak quietly. “He only mated me to have children.” Jaskier whispered, voice barely audible but Geralt’s Witcher hearing picked it up easily. “His wife was barren so he used omegas to give him children.” Jaskier’s voice choked on the last word and Geralt frowned but didn’t interrupt. This was the most Jaskier had spoken and he didn’t want to interrupt him. “I…I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I…think that’s why he gave me to you.”

“Bastard.” Geralt growled, unable to stop himself.

Jaskier, surprisingly chuckled in answer. “He was.” Geralt hummed, finishing wrapping a bandage over the mating bond, silently wondering if it would be possible to remove it. If it was, Yennefer and Triss would know how. “I still don’t understand.” Jaskier whispered, blue eyes moving to look at Geralt. They were filled with tears and more pain than Geralt had ever seen before. He had an overwhelming desire to run his hand down Jaskier’s chin but forced himself not to. Jaskier had been touched so many times without consent, Geralt would not do the same thing.

“What Vizimir did to you was wrong.” Geralt growled, barely concealing his anger as he stared directly into Jaskier’s eyes, willing him to believe Geralt’s words. “He had no right to treat you this way and I am sorry he did.” Jaskier looked at him, eyes unbelieving even as the tears continued to fall. “I won’t allow anyone to hurt you again. I promise.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Jaskier whispered, making Geralt’s heart ache. They sat there for a while, both staring at each other, Geralt with sadness and Jaskier with confusion and pain, before a breeze drifted to them, causing Jaskier to shiver. Geralt cursed the fact he’d left Jaskier half naked as he got to his feet and pushed the shirt at Jaskier. Jaskier looked at him, face filled with confusion before hesitantly taking the garment and putting it on. 

“You…you can look at…at the rest…sir, Geralt.” Jaskier stuttered, voice uncertain as he dropped his gaze.

“Is that what you want?” Geralt asked. If Jaskier said no Geralt would listen, despite every instinct in him telling him to look the omega over for every possible injury and try and make it better. Jaskier didn’t answer, only nodded. “If you tell me to stop I will.” Geralt promised. This made Jaskier look up, blue eyes piercing Geralt before dropping again.

Jaskier pulled his boots and breeches off, movements stiff and Geralt could tell the movements pained him but he wouldn’t touch Jaskier unless the omega asked him to so he remained knelt on the floor in front of Jaskier, waiting for the omega to be ready. Jaskier hesitated as he put his hands on his small clothes, breath stuttering as his heart rate spiked. Geralt grabbed one of the blankets from the make shift bed and handed it to Jaskier before turning away to give Jaskier some privacy.

When Geralt was certain Jaskier was done, the sound of rustling fabric having stopped and the omegas heart rate slowing down, Geralt turned back around. Jaskier was sitting on the log again, blanket wrapped around his waist to cover his groin and arse. Glancing at the pile of clothes, Geralt saw the smallclothes, spotted with dried bright red blood.

Ignoring that for the time being, Geralt surveyed Jaskier’s legs. His ankles were covered in scars, white lines and brighter red ones as if he’d been chained somewhere. Geralt took the poultice and rubbed it into those areas, before turning to Jaskier’s legs. They weren’t as badly bruised as the rest of him and Geralt breathed a sigh of relief when he ran his hands up and down them and found no breaks.

As he finished rubbing the poultice into Jaskier’s legs, he hesitated. Jaskier’s heart had started racing again, head staring resolutely at his hands in his lap. “Are you still bleeding?” Geralt growled. Jaskier shook his head softly and Geralt grunted. “Put your breeches back on. If it starts hurting anymore or you start bleeding let me know.” Jaskier nodded softly, waiting for Geralt to turn around again before doing as asked.

………….

Jaskier had spent the rest of the day sleeping. Geralt had insisted, pushing Jaskier back into the makeshift bed when he was done and citing there was no reason to stay up and wait until the other Witchers got here. In truth Jaskier had been grateful. The events of the day had been, overwhelming. Geralt had turned everything Jaskier knew and expected from alphas on its head in a single few hours. 

Jaskier didn’t think anyone had shown him the kindness Geralt had, not even his own parents. Geralt had been kind and gentle, nothing like Jaskier thought him to be. He hadn’t once forced himself on Jaskier, hadn’t once insulted him for being weak or pushing at the bruises he found there like the court physician used to do in Redania. No, Geralt had been kind and gentle and considerate. And it was all so overwhelming.

The sound of 30 odd Witchers shouting and laughing broke Jaskier from his slumber and he couldn’t help but curl tightly in on himself in fear. “It’s ok. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Geralt’s reassuring voice broke through to Jaskier, making the omega’s heart ache. No one had ever tried to protect him before. Nobody.

Jaskier expected the Witchers to force him to move despite Geralt’s words. After all he was closest to the fire, a place for the alphas of the group to sit, not their omegas to lie. But none of the Witchers said a word as Jaskier climbed out of his bedding and sat hesitantly on top of it. Instead they moved around him, shouting and throwing items as they gutted and cleaned and a large deer. All the while giving Jaskier a wide birth.

As the deer was set over the fire, the smell enough to make Jaskier’s mouth water, 2 Witchers cam to settle next him. He immediately stiffened, fear spiking through him as he waited for them to do something. “I’m Eskel.” The scarred Witcher from yesterday said, voice friendly as he spoke. “That idiot over there is Lambert.”

“Fuck you.” The bald headed Witcher shouted angrily, making Jaskier cringe away from him. 

“Ignore him, he’s harmless.” Another Witcher shouted over the fire, eyes alight from the amber flame. “All bark not bite.”

“Fuck you Aidan.” Lambert growled, jumping to his feet and launching himself at Aidan who dodged easily, leaving Lambert sprawled on the ground.

A loud cheer ran up as Lambert swore, got to his feet and charged Aidan again. Jaskier watched, heart pounding as he waited for someone to intervene. Two alphas fighting was dangerous, it never ended well. For either the alpha that lost or the omega that happened to be near the winner still drunk off adrenalin and need of a good fuck. Except no one did as Lambert tackled Aidan and sat on his back grinning triumphantly.

“Here.” Geralt thrust a piece of meat at Jaskier who took it in shaking hands, heart still pounding.

“Just ignore them, they’re idiots.” Eskel stated, smiling at Jaskier before digging into his own meat. Jaskier nodded, hesitantly taking a bite. His mouth watered at the taste and he groaned in bliss, before realising what he’d done and feeling his face heat in embarrassment.

Neither Eskel or Geralt paid any attention though as they turned to their own food. “Yennefer’s going to meet us in the next town over.” Eskel stated over the meat, earning a hum from Geralt. “She’ll get us back to Kaer Morhen through portal.”

“Good.” Geralt growled, even as Jaskier stared at his meat trying to quell his racing heart. Kaer Morhen, the home of the Witchers. Is that what the Witchers were waiting for. Lulling him into a sense of security before taking him home and raping him there. Jaskier felt tears burn at his eyes as sickness spread over his stomach, the food turning to ash in his mouth. “Jaskier, no one is going to hurt you, I promise.”

And as much as Jaskier wanted to believe him, he just couldn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

Yennefer wasn’t pleased. She hadn’t been pleased since getting the message that she and Triss were to be in Aretuza right when the peace treaty in Redania was to be signed, to help the Chapter monitor the situation. As the Witchers most trusted sorceresses they were invaluable in monitoring the situation, at least that was the Chapter said. In truth Yennefer knew the Chapter didn’t want any of their sorcerers or sorceresses involved in the Witchers negotiations, in case it appeared as though the Chapter was taking sides in the war.

That in itself had left Yennefer annoyed. Not because she didn’t think the Witchers could handle the situation, no the Witchers were more than capable of waging war. The problem was they had no idea how to act diplomatically. The fuss Geralt had kicked up, along with every Witcher that wasn’t Vesemir and Eskel (the only two half sensible Witchers in the whole bloody Continent if you asked Yennefer) when she’d informed them they would be having a Redania guest staying with them as insurance was appalling. It cemented the fact that leaving the Witchers to deal with the peace treaty alone was a bad idea, not that Yennefer had thought it was ever remotely a good idea.

And then she’d received a message from Eskel just as she was leaving Aretuza, exactly a day ago no, asking her to meet them in some tiny no name village. She wasn’t just displeased, she was furious as she stood on the path, listening to the sounds of the Witchers approach.

The heavy fall of horses hooves, quickly followed by the stink of 30 off Witchers who had been sleeping rough for the past 3 days, signalled their arrival. Yennefer watched with piercing eyes as the Witchers rounded the corner in the path and came into view. Her eyes glanced over them all, searching for the noble guest (though prisoner was really a more apt term for what they would be). 

She expected to see a nobleman, sitting on a horse looking uncomfortable or aloof in the company of the Witchers, most likely trailing a large cart of luggage that was probably the reason Eskel had asked her to meet them so they wouldn’t have to cart the luggage up the mountain. Wheat she didn’t expect was the sweet scent of wildflowers and the omega sitting behind Geralt on Roach.

She felt her hackles rise as she glared at the omega. A boy, you could barely call him a man with that foppish hair and to wide bright blue eyes. His arms were around Geralt but his head was peering over the white wolf’s shoulder, at least he was before his eyes met Yennefer’s. As if sensing Yennefer’s annoyance, the omega huddled behind Geralt. Yennefer barely stopped the snort at that, the omega was literally using Geralt’s body to shield himself. And Geralt was letting him, and glaring at her as if it was her fault he had an omega on the back of his horse that was too afraid to meet her gaze head on.

She watched as Geralt pulled Roach up before jumping off and then gently helping the omega down. Yennefer glared at the omega the whole time Geralt had his hands around the boys waist and helped him from the too tall horse onto unsteady feet. A lesser person would say she was jealous, after all she had had her own relationship with Geralt over the years, but that in the past now. No, she was glaring because that omega was blinking pretty eyes up at Geralt with a hesitant smile on his too pale face, acting the damsel in distress. It was obvious from the way Geralt looked down at him, amber eyes brimmed with concern that the omega had the white wolf wrapped around his finger. It was probably why Vizimir had given them an omega as their psuedo guest, after all even Witchers weren’t immune to an omegas charms.

Deciding she’d had enough of the show, Yennefer stalked past the other dismounting Witchers straight to where Geralt was standing with the omega close beside him. The omega flinched upon seeing her walking towards them, seeming to cower behind Geralt which was...odd. In her experience not only were omegas spoilt and brattish, but very prossessive of their omega. By rights, from the way this one had been acting with Geralt, he should have stood glaring down Yennefer as if to ask why she was coming near the alpha he had so obviously claimed as his.

“Yennefer.” Geralt’s voice held a warning note in it but Yennefer ignored it. She knew Geralt to well, to intimately to be afraid of the white wolfs rage and displeasure.

Yennefer turned blazing eyes to the omega, seeing the way the boy seemed to grow smaller, hidden behind Geralt’s back. If he’d been standing straight, she thought the omega might just be near Geralt’s height. She frowned as the omega kept his gaze fixed solidly to the floor. There was a scent of fear souring the wildflowers surrounding him, along with...resignation?

Yennefer was building her chaos and directing it at the omega before she even realised what she was doing. She graced the surface of his mind and almost fell back at the weight of pain, of grief, of pure agonising despair filling the omegas mind. 

The omega whimpered low in his throat, staggering back a step. Tears dripped down his eyes as his whole body tensed as if waiting for a blow. Yennefer took a step towards the omega only for the omega to take a terrified step back. Geralt was in front of her, amber eyes blazing in anger as he stood as a solid wall between the omega and Yennefer.

“You need to explain this.” Yennefer stated voice low as she forced back the composure she had lost upon glimpsing the omegas mind.

Geralt only hummed before turning to the omega. He approached the tense omega as if approaching a wild animal. “Jaskier, this is Yennefer. She’s a friend.” Yennefer watched as Jaskier took a deep breathe in, forcing his body to relax as he stepped out of Geralt’s shadow.

His gaze still fixed to the floor, he said: “My apologies for my reaction Ma’am.” Jaskier’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as his whole body tensed. He expected Yennefer to hit him, she realised.

“There’s nothing to apologise for.” Yennefer said instead, using the tone she reserved only for Ciri. She saw the surprise in Geralt’s face but her focus was on the omega still staring at the floor. “It should be me who apologises.” This got Jaskier’s attention, he actually startled, lifting his head to look at Yennefer in confusion before seeming to remember himself and dropping his head back to look at the floor.

Yennefer only frowned. Something wasn’t right here, something definitely wasn’t right.

...........

Jaskier stared at the swirling portal Eskel had just stepped through with apprehension. “It’s safe.” Geralt grunted behind him, startling Jaskier enough to lift his head from looking at the ground. His eyes met the violet gaze of Yennefer and he immediately dropped his gaze. She frightened him, more than even the Witchers had at first. Yennefer exuded power and dominance, and Jaskier had no doubt she would have no issue putting him back in his place when she realised how lenient the Witchers had been with punishing him.

“We can ride back to Kaer Morhen if you like.” Geralt said.

“No.” Jaskier almost shouted, body automatically tensing for the blow that was sure to come. As much as he didn’t want to go through the portal, he wanted to get on the horse again even less. When no blow came, he looked up to see Geralt just watching him. No, he was waiting, for Jaskier to move. Jaskier took a deep breath, forcing trembling limbs to walk towards the portal.

“You’ll feel a bit dizzy and nausea.” Yennefer stated, when he hesitated at the entrance to the portal.

Jaskier nodded, keeping his head down and taking a step through the portal. As he stepped through, his vision went black and his head suddenly became light headed. his stomach rolled in protest as his vision was suddenly surrounded by a bright light again. Jaskier groaned, legs trembling before collapsing all together.

He would have hit the ground if not for Eskel’s quick reflexes, wrapping an arm around Jaskier’s waist to steady him. Jaskier groaned, eyes clenched shut as he willed the dizzy sickening feeling to go away.

As it did, Jaskier became more acutely aware of the feeling of Eskel’s hands around his waist. They were wrapped firmly, securely around Jaskier’s ribs so as to stop him falling but that wasn’t what Jaskier noted. All he remembered was the feeling of other arms, wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer so he was forced into Vizimir’s lap. Arms around him, squeezing him close as hot breath tickled over his scent gland, Vizimir’s teeth grazing the area. He had claimed within a few weeks of Jaskier being given to him. of hand pressing against tender aching ribs, or hands pressing against a belly with a child growing in him.

Jaskier vomited onto the ground and Eskel’s shoes. He heard voices behind him but he wasn’t paying attention as fear gripped him. He’d just vomited over Eskel’s shoes. No, no, this was the Witchers breaking point, this was when they punished him. This was when they beat him bloody before sharing him around the keep.

The arms vanished from around him and Jaskier collapsed onto his knees, body shivering in terror. He wrapped his arms around him, shaking his head as tears fell down his face. He couldn’t go through this again. He didn’t want to go through this again.

........

“Jaskier.” Geralt crouched down in front of the sobbing, panicking omega. Jaskier whimpered, curling tighter around his body as if to hide from Geralt. His face was buried in his chest so Geralt couldn’t see the tears on his face, even though he could smell them clearly in the air. “No ones going to hurt you.” Geralt said, voice quiet and as calm as he could make it.

He didn’t expect Jaskier to lift his head up so when he did Geralt was taken by surprise. “I don’t understand.” Jaskier whispered and Geralt felt his heart ache.

“It’s ok.” Geralt promised. “You don’t need to understand, just believe me.”

“I don’t.” Jaskier whispered again, body tensing as it waited for a hit to fall. Geralt didn’t move though, just remained still as Jaskier slowly calmed his breathing and the tenseness fell enough for Jaskier to let his body unfurl.

“Can you walk?” Geralt asked as Jaskier stood on shaking legs. Jaskier nodded and even though Geralt knew Jaskier was lying he let it slide. He wouldn’t touch the omega if that wasn’t what Jaskier wanted.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eskel and Yennefer talking with Vesemir. He nodded to the grey wolf when he caught Vesemir’s eye. Vesemir nodded back, amber eyes filled with concern as he glanced at Jaskier before turning back to Yennefer and Eskel. Geralt didn’t know where Ciri was but he was grateful she wasn’t here to greet them. It would be too hard to explain Jaskier’s panic to her, though Geralt would have to explain Jaskier at some point. Though how, he wasn’t exactly sure.

As Geralt led Jaskier up to Kaer Morhen, keeping a hand hovering near Jaskier’s back in case the omega collapsed, he saw Jaskier’s blue eyes widen with curiosity. Geralt smiled, glad to see the omega looking around the castle in curiosity, it was probably the first positive emotion that he’d gotten from the omega.

Not that it did anything to hide the omegas frailty. Jaskier was shivering, which Geralt was beginning to suspect was the cold winds of the mountain. He’d have to look at getting Jaskier better clothes for the oncoming winter, and a thick coat, maybe some gloves, and better boots. As he thought over what Jaskier might need, Geralt remembered the room they’d set up for the Redania noble they thought they would be getting.

Geralt had left Lambert and Aidan in charge of it, partly out of spite because he knew the two Witchers would hate the task more than Geralt hated the thought of having a potential Redania Spy in their midst. He’d seen the room they’d chosen briefly before departing to Redania. It was bare, a mattress with a few of the more threadbare blankets and covers in Kaer Morhen. The fire place had been cold, with nothing available to start the fire as Lambert had made it clear ‘I’m not a fucking babysitter. They can get their own wood and start their own fire like every fucker else.” The room was one of the older less used rooms in Kaer Morhen as well. Drafty in the winters and hard to get warm, let alone keep warm. “They can get warm lifting logs back up here.” Aidan had stated, crossing his arms over his chest as if daring Geralt to argue.

Geralt hadn’t. He’d been of the same opinion as Lambert and Aidan, whatever noble they got wouldn’t be pampered and they would keep their own rooms clean and warm or they could freeze. Except Jaskier wasn’t a noble, he was an abused omega with more injuries than Geralt had ever seen on any living person, including a Witcher. Geralt would be damned if he let Jaskier stay in those rooms, which left him with very little options really.

Most of the rooms in Kaer Morhen were taken by the Witchers who lived and visited there over Winter. The few guest rooms they had were all in states of disrepair or disuse because, well Kaer Morhen didn’t see any visitors. Which left him with very little options. Either give Jaskier a drafty room that was half prepared or give him a room that wasn’t prepared and was still cold. 

Glancing at Jaskier, Geralt realised he couldn’t do either options. The steps inside Kaer Morhen were steep and Jaskier was breathing heavily, muscles trembling as he walked the steps. Geralt remembered how thin Jaskier was, how he could count evert rib, remembered the scarring along his back, the bruises covering every inch of him, the scent of blood on Jaskier as they rode Roach.

He couldn’t give Jaskier one of the guest rooms but he could give the omega his room. It was basic, Geralt didn’t have much in the way of personal belongings and the things in there he could easily replaced. Jaskier needed the comfort more than he did.

.........

Jaskier was breathless as they finally stopped outside of a large wooden door. Geralt was looking at him with concern in his eyes but Jaskier refused to acknowledge the aching pain in his body as well as the exhaustion flooding him. He didn’t know if it was physical exhaustion or emotional exhaustion but he imagined it was probably a bit of both. 

Geralt opened the door and motioned for Jaskier to walk in. Too tired to even consider the implications of walking into a room alone with the white wolf, Jaskier’s tired feet walked him inside, only to pause in the entrance. The room was huge, larger even than the room he’d had growing up in Lettenhove. A large fire place sat at one end, a good supply of logs waiting and as Jaskier watched Geralt walked over, making a motion with his hand and the fire place leapt to life. 

Jaskier felt his shoulders shag at the warmth the slowly started to fill the room, the ice cold of the mountain air being fought away by the cheery fire. There was a large set of drawers in one corner and a simple wooden chair sitting in front of the fire, with a soft rug covering the floor near the fire. jaskier wondered if Geralt would mind if he slept there, rather than on the cold stone flooring that was the rest of the room. His eyes drifted to the large four poster bed, covered in plush cushions and huge soft furs. No, he wouldn’t look, not when he knew he would never be allowed the comfort of that bed.

“This is yours.” Geralt grunted and Jaskier startled, whipping around to face Geralt.

“Mine?” jaskier breathed and Geralt hummed. Jaskier felt his heart beat in his chest as he considered why he’d been given such a lavish room. Was it so the Witchers had a comfortable place to fuck him? He tensed at the thought, even as his mind helpfully reminded him Geralt wasn’t going to hurt him, that Geralt had promised no one would hurt him. Except no one kept that promise, they always hurt him eventually.

“Your safe here.” Geralt’s voice, calm and reassuring. “No one will touch you.” And Jaskier wanted to believe him, he really did but how could he when he knew those words to be lies. Tears burnt at his eyes and Jaskier dropped his gaze to the floor so as to hide the tears forming. Geralt hummed before moving back across the room. “Get some rest. I’ll send someone up with food later.”

Jaskier didn’t say a word as Geralt closed the door, only stared at the floor as emotions whirled around his head. He didn’t understand, he didn’t understand any of this.

Without thinking, Jaskier found himself moving towards the bed. He knew he shouldn’t, that if the Witchers found him sleeping in the warm plush blankets and mattress they would hurt him. Except they hadn’t hurt him yet. A part of Jaskier’s mind almost wished they would as he pulled his boots and doublet off before burying himself under the thick blankets. Being hurt he could understand, but this...this kindness, he couldn’t understand it at all.

Tears feel from his face, pooling on the cushion at the soft warmth surrounding him. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand any of this.


	4. Chapter 4

“Jaskier’s staying.” Geralt growled as he walked into the large room that was used for council meetings. Vesemir sat at the desk at the back of the room, Yennefer standing next to the desk, Eskel was leaning against the wall by the roaring fire, Lambert mirroring Eskel’s stance on the other side of the fire, with Triss standing next to Yennefer.

“We were never suggest he leave.” Vesemir stated, voice calm despite the hostility in Geralt’s frame. The very thought of being forced to send the omega away from Kaer Morhen had anger surrounding Geralt.

“What I’d like to know is why he’s here in the first place?” Yennefer stated, violet eyes glaring straight at Geralt. Geralt held her gaze, protective anger filling him. Jaskier had been scared of Yennefer, no surprise considering the way she’d been upon first meeting the omega. It felt like a personal failure on Geralt’s part, he had promised to Jaskier that no one would hurt him and yet Yennefer appeared and made the omega afraid.

“Vizimir gave him to us.” Eskel stated, gaze fixed glaring on the floor.

“Fucking bastard.” Lambert growled under his breath.

“Why? Vizimir was to give us a member of the royal family, or one of us noblemen.” Yennefer stated, the silent not an abused terrified omega went unsaid.

It was Eskel who turned to answer her. “Jaskier is King Vizimir’s omegan mate.”

“I think Vizimir was lying to you.” Yenenfer stated, voice harsh as she turned her gaze to Eskel’s. Geralt could understand why Yennefer thought that. Omega’s were prized among alpha’s, they wouldn’t give one up easily, least of all to a Witcher. To give away your own omega to Witchers, rumours of which circulated about their cruel and barbaric treatment of omega’s was unheard of. Except…

“I saw the mating mark.” Geralt growled, anger filling him as he remembered the mark on Jaskier’s neck. It had been red and angry, it looked like it was physically painful to touch. As if Jaskier hadn’t suffered enough.

“Then I suspect Vizimir mated with Jaskier to make it appear as if the omega was his before giving him to you.” Yennefer replied. It was possible, Geralt supposed. Jaskier had obviously had a difficult life, his very demeanour suggested it, the fucking bruises and scars proved it. But that didn’t mean Vizimir had done all that, he could have got Jaskier from somewhere, someone else and marked him to appear as if he was following the Witchers command. But there was something telling Geralt that wasn’t the case, that it had been Vizimir that had caused the damage to Jaskier.

“Jaskier said Vizimir only mated him to give him children.” Geralt murmured under his breath, remembering the way Jaskier’s voice had choked on those words.

Yennefer’s eyes blazed at that statement, Triss gasping audibly while Lambert and Eskel let out a low growl of anger. Vesemir was the only one to remain calm as he watched Geralt closely. It wasn’t uncommon for an alpha and beta family to have an omega carry their children for them, especially if the beta was barren, but those omegas were treated well, were treated as part of the family and were as much a part of the relationship as the alpha and beta themselves. Geralt didn’t think that had ever been the case for Jaskier.

“Has he ever been pregnant?” Triss asked, voice filled with pain. Geralt looked at her, heart breaking at the mere thought. He hadn’t…fuck, he hadn’t considered that Jaskier might have ever been pregnant.

“Jaskier said he couldn’t give Vizimir what he wanted.” Geralt breathed even as his mind stuttered over the possibility. If Jaskier had been pregnant before, fuck if Jaskier had been with Vizimir for as long as Geralt suspected how many pregnancies had he had, how many fucking miscarriages. The very thought made Geralt sick to his stomach.

“Where is he?” Triss asked, voice firm as she came over to rest a firm hand on Geralt’s shoulder. She squeezed it gently, reassuring even as Geralt’s anger towards the bastard that had hurt Jaskier so much grew to the point he wanted to go to Redania and tear that bastard apart limb from fucking limb.

“I put him in my room.” Geralt spoke, voice gravelly with anger. Triss nodded, squeezing Geralt’s arm gently before turning to Eskel and Lambert.

“He’ll need warmer clothes, I doubt Vizimir let him bring anything.” Eskel shook his head in answer to Triss’ words.

“We’ve got some old clothes in storage that might fit.” Eskel stated.

“The next supply run the Witchers can pick him up some new clothes. And boots.” Triss added after a moment. “He won’t want to go down the hot springs, not yet.” Geralt had to repress the sudden rage that filled him. The hot springs were built underneath Kaer Morhen, a place where all the inhabitants of Kaer Morhen used to wash. The thought of Jaskier willingly going anywhere one naked Witcher, let alone the number that were always frequented the hot springs at any of time of the day was impossible. Fuck, would Jaskier even want to stay in Kaer Morhen. A protective anger filled Geralt at the thought of letting Jaskier leave the safety of Kaer Morhen for the world that had done nothing but hurt him. But if that was Jaskier’s choice then Geralt wouldn’t stand in his way.

“Some of the Witchers can bring him up a bath.” Triss stated, moving away from Geralt to look at Lambert. Lambert grunted in annoyance but didn’t argue like he usually would at Triss’ next words. “Lambert, you can help me organise everything Jaskier needs.”

“He was injured.” Geralt grunted before Triss could leave, glare fixed on the floor as he remembered the scattering of scars that had covered Jaskier’s back.

“Yennefer and I can look him over.” Triss’ voice was kind and gentle as she spoke, turning to face Geralt. “But first let’s get him settled.” Geralt grunted, watching as Triss and Lambert left the room.

As the door closed, Yenenfer started to speak. “Can the Witchers handle having an omega here?” Geralt growled low in his throat at the meaning behind Yennefer’s words. Witchers were trained to ignore their alpha instincts, they were too much of a distraction if they started puffing up like any normal alpha would. But none of them had ever been in close proximity to an omega before, let alone had one living in Kaer Morhen. Geralt remembered the heady scent of wildflowers clinging to Jaskier and growled again at the thought of someone’s control slipping and cornering the omega.

“None of the Witchers will touch him.” Vesemir stated, voice firm as he turned to Eskel. “Eskel, pass the word around that we have an omega staying at Kaer Morhen.”

“And no one is to touch him.” Geralt growled, voice low and threatening. Eskel nodded, pausing for a moment next to Geralt before settling a hand on the white wolf’s shoulder and squeezing softly before leaving the room.

“I take it no one thought to ask for Vizimir to send a better hostage to Kaer Morhen?” Vesemir asked, Yennefer staring at Geralt with piercing violet eyes.

“So we’re not pretending that anyone sent here wouldn’t been a prisoner anymore.” Geralt growled, anger flooding his tone. They’d had this conversation since Yennefer had stated they needed insurance from Vizimir but neither Vesemir or Yennefer had admitted whoever was sent would be more prisoner than guest.

“They would have had freedom within Kaer Morhen’s walls and would have been expected to earn their place here like the other Witchers. The only prison they made would have been the one they made for themselves.” Vesemir stated bluntly.

“Jaskier isn’t our prisoner.” Geralt growled, voice low and dangerous. “He is a guest here.”

“I agree.” Yenenfer added, surprising Geralt for a moment as she turned to Vesemir. “It’s probably best that Vizimir didn’t send any other noble here. The Witchers never would have welcomed them and they never would have accepted being forced to stay here.”

“Then what do you suggest we do to keep Redania in line?” Vesemir stated, voice blunt as he turned to Yennefer.

“The treaty Redania signed never said the Witchers couldn’t move around freely in Redania. Send a few there, in pairs. They can travel the path and keep an eye on Vizimir’s movements. And they can get rid of the monsters in the Redania countryside, the nobles probably won’t appreciate Witcher interference but the villagers will.” Vesemir hummed, in agreement.

Geralt wasn’t listening though, mind turned to Jaskier. Fuck, he’d looked so overwhelmed when Geralt had left him. Overwhelmed and heartbreakingly confused, as if no one had ever shown him even a modicum of kindness before the Witchers. Fuck. Geralt had a sudden urge to go to the omega and comfort him, hold him close and show Jaskier every bit of kindness and comfort he should have always had.

“Geralt.” Vesemir’s words were the same tone he used when Geralt was still a child, before the Trial of Grasses. Geralt turned automatically to his old mentor, whose face softened considerably as he looked at Geralt. “Triss will make sure Jaskier has everything he needs and he is safe here in Kaer Morhen. No one here will hurt him. But we need your attention here.” Geralt hummed. He knew that, the Witchers were trained to protect he innocent and Jaskier was every bit the innocent. But still, a part of Geralt was filled with the overwhelming urge to protect and care for the omega. And fuck if that wasn’t a terrifying thought.

………………………

Jaskier didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until he was woken to a soft knocking at his door. He startled, sleep addled brain not registering where he was. He could feel the soft mattress under his fingers, the cushion still damp from tears under his head. Jaskier’s heart beat in panic as he thought of all the times he’d woken in a bed. His own bed in the tiny room Vizimir had given him, a scratchy blanket and nothing t cushion Jaskier from the hard mattress. Vizimir’s own bed, woken brutally by Vizimir’s hands on him, whether to fuck him senseless again or to shove him roughly from the bed in anger. But…this bed didn’t feel like any of those beds. It felt…safe?

The knock came again and Jaskier forced himself out of the warmth of the bed. “Jaskier, can we come in?” A female voice, one he didn’t recognise called through the oak door. The sudden urge to refuse, to barricade the door shut ran through Jaskier but he forced himself to ignore it. The Witchers were strong, they would have no issue forcing themselves into the room and the resulting anger wouldn’t be worth the few moments of solitude Jaskier would have gained.

“Yes.” Jaskier forced himself to speak, hands clasping together in front of him to force the minute shaking there. A frizzy brown haired beta walked into the room, behind her Eskel and Lambert stood but neither made a move to follow the woman into the room.

“Are you ok?” The woman asked, voice warm and filled with comfort as she paused a few meters from where Jaskier stood, head lowered. Jaskier felt his throat constrict at the question, the urge to break down filling him as tears burned at his eyes. But Jaskier pushed them aside.

“Fine, Ma’am.” Jaskier’s voice was quiet and unconvincing if the way the woman frowned softly for a moment before smiling at him.

“Call me Triss.” Triss said, a smile on her face. Jaskier didn’t say a word, confusion flooding him. Why was she here? Was she here to punish him, or get him ready to face the Witchers. “We’ve brought you up a bath, and some fresh clothing. Would we be ok to bring them in?” Triss asked.

Jaskier looked past her, seeing the large chest at Lamberts feet. Behind Eskel and Lambert, Jaskier could see two larger Witchers holding a large tub, buckets lining the hall behind them. Jaskier bowed his head, feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Of course, that was why Geralt hadn’t touched him. He didn’t want to touch an omega so obviously as soiled as Jaskier.

“Ok.” Jaskier whispered. His head was bowed so he missed the concerned frown Eskel and Triss shared.

He moved away from the Witchers as Eskel and lambert carried in the chest. His back hit the wall, heart hammering as the two burly Witchers walked the tub in. “That’s Letho and Aukes.” Triss said, coming to lean against the wall beside Jaskier. She left a large gap between herself and Jaskier, offering him a gently smile as she spoke. “They look a bit scary but they’re harmless.” Lambert huffed a laugh at that.

“Unless you smell them after training, then they’re fucking deadly.” Lambert grinned, expertly dodging the punch Letho aimed his way. Aukes just grunted something under his breath before turning eyes to Jaskier. Jaskier felt himself stiffen under the large Witchers gaze but instead of glaring at Jaskier, Aukes frowned softly before nodding as if in greeting.

“See harmless.” Triss grinned as Aukes and Letho disappeared from the room, reappearing after a moment with buckets of water. Jaskier watched as they poured the contents into them bath, steam wafting into the air. Fuck, when was the last time he’d had anything but a cold bath. 

Eskel leant on the other side of Jaskier, eyes staring at the fire. Jaskier tensed at the close proximity of the alpha but as Eskel made no move to touch or even look at Jaskier he felt himself relaxing. “Do you want the fire building back up?” Eskel asked, voice soft and quiet as he continued to stare at the fire. Jaskier glanced at the fire in surprise, surprised to find the leaping flames that had greeted him upon entering the room were now fading to soft embers.

“Can…can you show me how?” Jaskier whispered, body tensing as it waited for a hit to come. But it never did, Eskel only grunted and motioning for Jaskier to come closer. Jaskier did so, tension filling him as he crouched near the fire place.

“Throw that log in.” Eskel grunted, motioning for Jaskier to pick up one of the logs sitting there. Jaskier did, following Eskel’s instructions who grunted in approval. Eskel then picked up a poker, handing it to Jaskier handle first. Jaskier took it in shaking hands. Eskel didn’t seem to notice as his soft voice continued speaking, “Use that to get the fire started again.” Jaskier nodded, poking at the log he’d just gotten into the fire and moving it until the log sat on the embers and the fire started to build up again. Eskel hummed before stepping back. “If the fire dies down, one of us can show you how to restart it. And if you run out of logs someone can get you more, or we can show you were we store them so you collect your own.”

“Why?” Jaskier found himself asking without thinking. Eskel didn’t answer for a moment but when he did he turned to look at Jaskier with sincere amber eyes.

“Kaer Morhen is cold, especially during winter. You need to keep warm.” Eskel frowned for a moment before adding in a low calm voice. “Anything you need, come to one of us. We’ll help if we can.”

“I don’t understand.” Jaskier whispered and Eskel looked at him with sad eyes, so similar to the expression Geralt gave him that it knocked Jaskier back a little.

“You don’t need to. Just know you’re safe here.” Eskel said, looking at Jaskier once more before stepping back. Jaskier watched quietly as the 4 Witchers left the room.

Triss paused for a moment, hand hovering at the door before speaking. “The door locks from the inside. I know it’s difficult to believe you’re safe here but you are.” Jaskier didn’t say a word, eyes flued to the floor. Triss paused for a moment before smiling sadly at him and moving to close the door.

Before she could leave though, Jaskier forced himself to say, “Thank you.” 

Triss smiled again, face lighting up. “You don’t need to thank us. If we can help, we will.” And with that, she closed the door with a soft thud behind her.

Jaskier was moving before he even registered it, hands gliding to lock the bolt in place. As the lock thudded, he paused, body stiffening as he waited for the furious angry shouts of the Witchers, but none came. And maybe they never would come. They all kept saying he was safe and a part of Jaskier was slowly beginning to believe it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of past rape and past miscarriages in this chapter.

Jaskier felt good. Better than he had in too long, longer than he even really remembered. He’d sat in the steaming water until it had grown cold, his goosebumps slowly starting to form across his body. The bath had done wonders. He’d spent a good while scrubbing at his body furiously, in the way he always did when granted a bath as if the scrubbing would make the phantom touches disappear, it never did but it made Jaskier feel like he was at least trying.

Once he’d scrubbed his whole body until it was near red from the force of his scrubbing, Jaskier had let himself relax. In Redania he’d never been allowed to just relax in the bath, being forced out of it before he’d even finished his relentless scrubbing most times. But with the door bolted and the words of Triss and Eskel floating in his mind, Jaskier found himself for the first time in so long relaxing.

His body was always filled with phantom aches and pains. The scars always seeming to ache despite some being years old, not to mention the multitude of bruises he had. But the warm water went a long way to relaxing Jaskier’s tense muscles. The pain was still there but under the warmth his body slowly started to ache less, become less tense. He felt…good. 

By the time he climbed out of the bath, the sun was lowering in the sky, coming to nightfall. It was hard to believe that it hadn’t even been a full day yet. So much had happened. His whole life had changed. Fuck, it was hard to believe only a few days ago he was still in Redania and now…now he was in Kaer Morhen, more relaxed than Jaskier had ever felt. He knew it wouldn’t last, nothing good ever did but Jaskier had resolved to enjoy this comfort while he could.

A jaw cracking yawn flew past his lips as Jaskier pulled out a clean chemise and breeches from the box Triss had had brought up to him. They didn’t fit well, slightly long in the arms and legs and loose enough that if Jaskier was leaving the room he would have to pull a belt on and tie it tightly, but they were warm. Warm, and the fabric was soft to the touch, nothing like the scratchy uncomfortable garments Vizimir forced him into, when he even let Jaskier wear clothes.

Jaskier walked over to the fire, following the instructions Eskel had given him to bring the fire back to roaring warmth. He smiled softly, warmth flooding him as exhaustion flooded his whole body. He was exhausted. In fairness he was always tired, the constant state of awareness he had to be in in Redania always keeping him awake to the dead of night, and the nights he spent in Vizimir’s chambers spent lying awake with the Kings cock buried deep in his arse, knowing the second he fell asleep he would be woken to the feeling of Vizimir shoving him into the mattress and fucking him hard and fast before being pushed out of the bed. 

But this exhaustion was different. It was the type of tiredness that flew through you when you were tired from being warm and relaxed and safe. Jaskier climbed under the blankets, body huddling under the warm furs, head resting on the soft cushion as he sighed softly. It wouldn’t last, he knew that, but he would enjoy it while he did.

………

Geralt stood outside his, now Jaskier’s rooms listening to the soft even breaths of the omega lying inside. He held a plate of the food being served downstairs in one hand, having intended to bring it up for Jaskier to eat. But the scent of heady wildflowers permeating the corridor from his room, sending waves of contentment and warmth flooding through Geralt at the simple scent, coupled with the deep even breaths of Jaskier sleeping gave him pause.

It was the most relaxed Geralt had ever felt Jaskier. Without the sour scent of fear underlying his every movement, Geralt could feel himself relaxing under the simple scent. If he woke Jaskier now, the chances were the sour scent of fear would return, the thought of that happening filled Geralt with anger and pain. Jaskier deserved to be content and comfortable. Not in pain and distress and fear.

Jaskier needed to eat though, he was too skinny. He needed food to bulk up for the winter. But Jaskier also needed sleep. He needed to rest and recover from his injuries and time in Redania. If Geralt disturbed him now, Jaskier might not rest easy again. 

Geralt glanced at the plate in hand. None of the food was perishable. It would go cold but it wouldn’t be any less edible because of it. Geralt hummed, placing the plate onto the ground outside Jaskier’s room before pulling a scrap of paper from his leather jerkin. He scrawled a note down, pushing it under the crack in the door before moving back down the hallway, trying to convince himself he’d done the right thing.

………..

……..Hot breath hit the back of his neck, face pressed into the mattress making breathing difficult without the weight covering his body. “Stay still.” Vizimir growled above him, hand fisting in Jaskier’s hair and shoving Jaskier’s head further into the mattress. Jaskier whimpered, skin slapping on skin echoing throughout the room.

His whole lower body felt numb as Vizimir pounded into him. Vizimir grunted, teeth biting down on Jaskier’s shoulder blade making the omega whimper in pain. Hands resting on his hips, biting in to bruise the already bruised flesh as Vizimir pounded harder and harder into Jaskier. Jaskier just lay, whimpering softly as Vizimir’s release approached and he was pushing his knot inside Jaskier.

Vizimir snarled, biting down on Jaskier’s shoulder as he came with a loud shout. Jaskier lay still, hole clenching in pain around the knot keeping Vizimir tied to him as Vizimir collapsed on top of Jaskier. Jaskier’s body protested the large wait of the alpha covering him but there was little Jaskier could do as tears burnt at the edges of his vision.

It felt like a lifetime before Vizimir’s knot died down enough for the alpha to pull out. And then rough hands were shoving Jaskier to the floor. Unprepared, Jaskier hit the carpet with a loud thud. “Stay.” Vizimir growled. Jaskier’s body curled instinctively to protect from the punch or kick that would follow.

When none came, Jaskier let himself glance towards the bed, where Vizimir was now lying asleep. Jaskier could feel cum slowly leaking out of him and felt some of the tears fall down his face. Vizimir wouldn’t be happy in the morning, he’d be furious at the mess Jaskier had made…except he had been told to stay. Jaskier curled tighter around himself, fear flooding through him as he battled the desire to run, to get away. But what would be the point, he wouldn’t get far. And the punishment of running would be so much worse than if he stayed……….

Jaskier woke to the memory of being kicked solidly in the back, body jerking forwards as Vizimir’s shouted anger faded in the back of his memory. Instinctivley, Jaskier curled tight around himself, protecting his body as best he could from the memory. Except it was just a memory. No kick came, while his body ached from old pains and bruises, no new pain appeared.

Slowly, Jaskier opened his eyes. He was greeted with darkness, broken only by the soft glow of the slowly dying fire. Jaskier shivered, forcing his mind back to the present and away from the past. His breaths which had turned uneven and harsh, slowly returned to normal and Jaskier felt some of the panic disappear as he collapsed further into the bedding.

His heart was still racing, fear clutching at him but now Jaskier was awake he could see the memory as what it was. Just a memory. He was in Kaer Morhen, alone, behind a locked door. No one was going to wake him kicking and shouting. Not now at least.

Jaskier shuddered at the thought of falling asleep again. Would he wake if the Witchers forced the door open, or would they come in silently? Yennefer had created a portal from Redania to Kaer Morhen, could she create one into Jaskier’s room. Jaskier shivered at the thought. Then shivered at the cold slowly filling the room.

He glanced at the dying fire and forced his stiff limbs into movement. Feeding the fire as Eskel had shown him, Jaskier found his body collapsing onto the soft furs beside it. Running his hands through the soft furs and closing his eyes, Jaskier remembered a different fur under his body. The fur beside Vizimir’s bed. Of being kicked off the fur to sleep on the stone cold flooring, despite it being the middle of winter, so as to save the furs from his mess. 

Tears burned at his eyes and Jaskier forced himself to stand, hands shaking with a need to do something, anything to forget. His eyes trailed over the room, landing on a piece of parchment that had flown underneath the doorway. He picked it up, surprised to find a neat scrawl of writing on the paper saying food had been left outside the door for him.

As if in answer, his stomach growled and Jaskier found himself hesitantly unbolting the door. He paused, holding his breath and straining his hearing to pick up anyone who might be outside the door. But when he heard nothing, he sighed in relief, opening the door to find a plate filled with food outside. He quickly picked it up before closing the door and bolting it once more.

The plate was piled high with meat, cheese, bread and vegetables. It was cold, obviously having sat there for a long time but Jaskier didn’t care as he found himself digging into the meal. It was good, cold but good. Jaskier ate until his belly started to protest, only having gotten a quarter of the meal eaten, but Jaskier presumed it would still be ok to eat tomorrow. Vizimir had always been careful to give Jaskier only what he could eat, or less sometimes, so as to make sure Jaskier didn’t horde food. The Witchers obviously hadn’t considered that, or didn’t care.

Jaskier placed the half eaten food down, eyes moving over the room. He hadn’t had chance to really look before but now he found himself looking at the items in the room properly. There wasn’t much in the room but Jaskier found his eyes falling on a small bookshelf. There were only a few book there but Jaskier picked one up anyway. It was old and battered, reading the cover Jaskier noted the title ‘Bestiary.”

Jaskier glanced back over the shelf, before taking the book back to the bed and opening the first page. As his eyes read through the words, he felt the tension leave his body, mind conjuring images of monsters instead. Monsters and a white haired Witcher there to defend against them.

………..

Yennefer stood back as Triss knocked on the door to Jaskier’s rooms. It took a few moments, but eventually the door clicked open and Jaskier appeared at the entrance. He looked better than he had. Face still pale and black smudges under his eyes, but his eyes were brighter than they had been and he didn’t have the exhausted slump in his shoulders that he had had before.

“Can we come in?” Jaskier’s eyes jumped from Triss to Yennefer before seeming to realise what he was doing and drop back to looking at the floor. Yennefer frowned, Triss’ eyes growing sad even as she kept the smile in place.

“Yes.” Jaskier spoke, voice quiet and strained. Yennefer got the feeling that if he thought he could, Jaskier would have refused them. It made her frown deepen as Triss led the way into the room.

The bed had been slept in, the furs and covers ruffled making Yennefer’s frown lessen slightly. At least he was comfortable with sleeping in the bed. The bath from yesterday was still there and with a wave of her hand, chaos grew in the air and the water disappeared. Jaskier startled, blue eyes wide with wonderment as he stared at Yenenfer before once more realising what he was doing and dropping his gaze.

“You should sit in in one of Ciri’s lessons if you like magic.” Triss grinned, catching Jaskier’s gaze slightly. Yennefer smiled at the mention of Ciri, remembering the anger in her face as she was told that she wasn’t to go near Jaskier. Ciri probably thought Geralt had said that to protect Ciri, but Yenenfer knew better. In fairness, she agreed with Geralt, there was no reason to overwhelm Jaskier further and Ciri would do exactly that. As much as Yennefer loved the girl, she was a handful, and very curious about everything.

“Who’s Ciri?” Jaskier asked, body tensing for a hit but Yenenfer felt her frown lessen once more. Perhaps the omega wasn’t as broken as she thought if he was still willing to ask questions despite the risk of punishment.

“Family.” Yenenfer answered, voice blunt. Jaskier nodded, eyes still directed to the floor.

“Geralt said you were injured.” Triss spoke, voice soft as she hovered near Jaskier. “Could we take a look?” Jaskier’s whole body tensed further, like a coil tightening ready to spring. “If you say no we’ll stop.” Jaskier didn’t answer but he nodded his head softly.

Triss and Yenenfer shared a look before directing Jaskier to sit on the edge of the bed. “Why don’t we start with taking your chemise off?” Triss stated, voice calm. Jaskier nodded, hands trembling as he slowly lifted the chemise from his body.

Yennefer stiffened at the sight, anger flooding her. Jaskier’s body was a mottle work of scars and bruises. It was obvious from glancing at his protruding ribs that some had healed wrong. His neck was red but whatever had caused the damage (most likely a collar Yennefer thought darkly) hadn’t punctured skin and redness was no where near as angry as it probably was when Geralt first looked the omega over. But none of that was what caught her gaze, no what caught her gaze was the mating mark sitting red and angry and painful against Jaskier’s scent gland.

………….

Jaskier felt embarrassment and humiliation flood him under the gaze of both Yennefer and Triss. He’d heard the audible gasp from Triss and could feel Yennefer’s anger filled gaze against his skin. He knew he was marked, badly marked, knew that his body was a pattern work of his abuse but he’d never felt shame quite like he did now with the two beautiful sorceresses looking him over. What must they think of him? Broken, abused, useless. Not even good to look at, let alone worth touching. Geralt not touching him was looked at in a new light now. Geralt hadn’t touched him because he was disgusted by Jaskier’s body. Jaskier didn’t know if he should feel relieved a bone deep shame of what Vizimir had done to him.

“Does it hurt?” Triss’ voice, filled with sadness and pain. Jaskier could feel her hand hovering over his scarred back and he whimpered softly. 

“Yes.” Jaskier whispered in reply. It always hurt, perhaps not the bone deep agony of when the whip had flown and struck his back, or the agony of the weeks that followed as the scars healed, but they still ached. A constant mind numbing ache, making it so Jaskier could never forget their existence.

“Can I put some cream on?” Triss asked, voice soft. Jaskier nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak. Triss’ fingers ran down his back, the cool cream rubbed into his scarred tissue and Jaskier felt tears flow down his face. He could feel every time her fingers bumped against a scar, dipped into a crevice left by a particularly nasty hit before rising up over a raised bit of skin.

Yenenfer settled herself on Jaskier’s other side, hands grasped in her lap as Triss started to speak “The Witchers are going down the path to get supplies, they’re going to get you some new clothes if you have a preference.”

“These are fine.” Jaskier whispered, forcing himself to speak. He didn’t need more, didn’t want to be a burden on the Witchers, not when he still didn’t know the price for their supposed kindness.

Yennefer snorted in answer. “They don’t fit you and black isn’t your colour.” Jaskier felt his cheeks burn in further shame as Yenenfer continued to speak seemingly oblivious. “Bright colours probably suit you more. Blue, green, perhaps red?” Jaskier’s mind went unbidden to the doublets and breeches he’d owed before presenting. All of bright various colours, embroidered with pattern work and silky to the touch. Yennefer hummed as if she’d heard his thoughts. “Bright colours then, with embroidery.”

Triss had moved away from his back, hands coming to trace just above Jaskier’s ribs. “Some haven’t healed right.” Jaskier already knew that. He remembered the hits and kicks that had caused them, remembered the pain of his bones healing as the abuse continued, ensuring the bones never did heal correctly. “We can re-break them and then re-set them.” Triss’ voice was hesitant as she spoke. “It will hurt but in the long run...”

“No.” Jaskier interrupted, voice firmer than it had been in…in ever. He flinched, body expecting punishment for his lack of respect as he quickly amended his refusal to say, “Please…they’re fine as they are.”

Triss’ hand gently took his shaking on in hers, squeezing softly as she smiled at him with brown eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s your choice Jaskier. We won’t make you, it just might make it easier for you if they’re healed right.” Jaskier just shook his head, the thought of enduring more pain if he didn’t have to. Triss hummed, Yennefer’s frown deepening. “If you change your mind.” Triss said, voice quiet as she continued looking Jaskier over.

Jaskier tried not to pay attention to Triss’ hands on him as she rubbed healing cream into him, her hands on occasion seeming to buzz with power over certain areas before moving away. The areas that were treated to the buzz of power seemed to ache less as she moved on. Finally, she came to rest her hands near the mating mark.

“Has it always been like this?” Triss asked. Jaskier just nodded, tears falling down his cheeks as he remembered the burning agony that had followed receiving that mark. It had felt like he was dying, body rejecting the marking even as Vizimir forced his teeth deep into Jaskier’s scent gland, claiming him, marking him. Jaskier shivered, the area seeming to burn more than usual at the memory.

“Does it hurt?” Yennefer asked, voice quiet. Again Jaskier nodded, eyes glued to the floor as Yennefer and Triss exchanged glances. “How long have you had it?” Yennefer asked and Jaskier shivered.

“8 years.” Jaskier whispered, mind whirring over that thought so he missed the pained noise Triss gave.

“Geralt told us why Vizimir mated you.” Yennefer’s words were careful, measured as she spoke as if afraid of saying them out loud. “That you were there to give him children.” Jaskier whined, long and deep in his throat, hand hovering over his stomach. “How many did you lose?”

“All of them.” Jaskier found himself answering, tears flowing freely now as his whole body ached with the loss of each and every one of them.

“I’m sorry this happened to you Jaskier.” Yennefer said, hand hesitantly coming to wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer. Jaskier let himself be pulled into Yennefer’s arms, head coming to rest on her shoulder. She smelt of gooseberries, a calming scent, not the one he would expect of the seemingly cold and aloof sorceress. “I wish I could bring them back. I wish I could change it for you.”

Jaskier didn’t say anything, just let himself cry in Yennefer’s arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Ciri was curious. The omega had been in Kaer Morhen for nearly a week now and from what she’d seen he hadn’t left his rooms, or Geralt’s rooms. When she’d been first told about the Redanian guest that would be staying here, Lambert and Aidan had taken her aside quietly asking for her assistance in making the Redanian nobles life, ‘a little bit difficult.’ Was how Aidan put it and ‘fucking horrendous, bastard deserves it’ as Lambert put it. Either way Ciri had enjoyed picking the nobles rooms and setting up his rooms so he’d struggle if he wasn’t able to look after himself. She’d enjoyed it even more when Geralt had seen her near the nobles soon to be rooms before he’d left for Redania with cheese in hand to encourage the rats to make a home in or around the nobles rooms, only grunting and nodding his head in approval.

And then Geralt and the others had returned with an omega in their company. An omega, Ciri wasn’t allowed near. Ciri had known Geralt would refuse to let her near the Redanian noble, fearful of Ciri’s safety, but this wasn’t just a nobleman, this was an omega. Ciri’s experience with omega’s, was in fairness lacking. Her Mother had been one but she’d died when Ciri was only a baby and the court of Cintra hadn’t had any omegan nobles growing up, the Witchers only had one person that wasn’t an alpha and that was Triss. 

But Ciri knew enough about omegas to be excited. Omegas were kind, caring, loving people. They offered comfort, warmth and kindness in abundance. Mousesack had told her, before her Grandmothers death when she was 7, that her Mother’s death had left a whole in the royal family that nothing could fill. An omega was an integral part of the family. They were what kept the family together, without an omega the alphas would grow angry and distant, the betas unwanted and uncared for. Without the omega, the family fell apart. 

Ciri had hoped upon hearing that an omega had been brought to Kaer Morhen, that that would mean the castle would be filled with the love and happiness that she knew the Witchers needed. They needed someone to care for them, Ciri tried her best but she could only do so much. They needed someone to comfort them, to love them unconditionally, to teach them that it was ok to be loved and cared for. The Witchers needed someone to show them that the words of the outside world, spoken so carelessly and without thought, weren’t the truth. And from what Ciri knew of omega’s, she thought that was what this one would do.

Except, Jaskier never left his rooms. He never left his rooms and his presence in Kaer Morhen, instead of making the castle warmer had only made the castle tenser somehow. Geralt was a prime example. When he’d come to see her after coming back to Kaer Morhen, he’d been distant. Distant and filled with worry, Ciri could see in his eyes and the way he wasn’t fully listening to her that his mind was somewhere else. It only grew worse as the days passed and Jaskier made no move to leave his rooms to interact with the inhabitants of Kaer Morhen.

So Ciri had decided that today she would find out why the omega was hiding in his rooms. Geralt was with Vesemir and Yennefer, discussing business. Triss was in the potion rooms and with the help of an always persuadable Letho and Aukes, Eskel and Lambert were being distracted by the Witchers. It left Ciri free to see the omega without being caught out.

………….

Jaskier had been in Kaer Morhen a week. A week and he still couldn’t understand. No one had touched him, to rape or otherwise hurt him. None of the Witchers, Triss or Yennefer entered his room without permission. Food was brought to him every meal time, or left outside his room if he was asleep. Letho and Aukes routinely walked water up to his rooms, at least once every two days. Firewood had been brought up by Lambert and Aidan. And Yennefer and Triss had dropped off sets of brand new clothes for him just yesterday morning.

The new clothes still sat where Jaskier had left them when he’d opened them. A blue doublet, sewn threw with red and yellow embroidered flowers, a pair of blue breeches to match. A red doublet, the embroidery a dark burgundy, with a light lavender chemise. A dark green doublet, sewn through with golden thread in the pattern of leaves. A pair of new boots, black leather and sturdy. A thick fur lined cloak, with matching fur lined gloves and scarf. They had all felt expensive and soft to the touch and while Jaskier hadn’t been able to bring himself to wear them yet, he already knew they would fit him perfectly.

Geralt visited every day, he was usually the one to give Jaskier his meals. The white wolf would barely say a word as he handed Jaskier the food, golden gaze fixed on Jaskier. Jaskier got the impression Geralt wanted to say something but every time it looked like he would, Geralt would just hum or grunt something before disappearing.

The bruises were slowly starting to heal, turning the dark yellow they always did before disappearing completely. Without new bruises to re-cover the old ones, Jaskier found himself oddly naked. He can’t remember the last time he hadn’t been covered in bruises. His bottom hurt less as well, the smarting ache that had been forever present in Redania was gone. He was even walking without the limp he’d been forced into to alleviate the ever present pain. The only part of his body that still pained him was the mating mark. Jaskier shivered, hands trailing over the area that burn and itched with renewed force every day.

And he wasn’t sleeping. Jaskier had never truly had the chance to sleep properly, always half asleep fearfully waiting for Vizimir to wake, or unconscious from pure exhaustion; the ability to sleep in relative comfort and warmth and safety was a luxury Jaskier hadn’t had for 8 years. But that didn’t mean he slept. It seemed the minute his eyes closed and he drifted into the blackness of sleep he was immediately dragged and overwhelmed by memories. Memories of pain, grief, fear and despair. All of which cumulated in Jaskier waking in a cold sweat, breaths coming out uneven panicked gasps that left Jaskier’s heart hammering in pain and desperation from what felt like hours afterwards. And once he had calmed himself down enough for the pain in his heart and chest to turn into only a dull ache, it was still dark outside and Jaskier was left to terrified to attempt sleep again.

It left him exhausted and filled with despair. What did it matter if the Witchers didn’t hurt him when he was still being tormented by his own mind?

A knock on the door dragged Jaskier from his thoughts and he quickly got to his feet and unbolted the door. He expected to see one of the Witchers there, or Triss or Yennefer, or Geralt; instead there was a young girl, no older than 12 with white blond hair and large emerald eyes. The girl took one long look at Jaskier before puffing back her shoulders and staring at him with an air that demanded respect as she pushed past Jaskier and into the room.

Jaskier felt his heart drop under her gaze. It was so like the looks Vizimir’s son, Radovid had given him. The look of superiority with the knowledge in his eyes that he could do as he pleased to Jaskier without fear of repercussion. And he had enjoyed using that power to torment and hurt Jaskier, using the guards to hit or punish Jaskier until he was old enough to punish Jaskier himself. A number of Jaskier’s miscarriages had been directly caused by Radovid, Vizimir’s son always sneering as he or punched Jaskier in his pregnant belly as hard and as many times as needed for the baby to be lost.

A choked sob rose in Jaskier’s throat before he could stop it as the memory of those miscarriages fell through him. Of feeling the baby die inside him, of feeling the blood dripping down his thighs as pain filled him. Of the anger and punishment that always came after his miscarriages. 

“Jaskier?” The girls voice, soft and worried broke through Jaskier’s pained mind. He hadn’t realised he’d sunk to his knees until now as he looked into the girls fear filled emerald gaze. Gone was the look of a child who knew they held the power and instead stood a young girl, worry clear in her eyes as she suddenly threw her arms around Jaskier’s shoulders.

Jaskier let out a huff of surprise, as his own arms wrapped around the girl whose blonder hair surrounded his vision. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck, her arms surprisingly strong as she hugged him fiercely. He felt himself relax into the hug, hugging her softly back as the overwhelming despair and grief fell back to a more manageable level.

“I’m sorry I frightened you.” Jaskier spoke, voice soft. The girl pulled back, frown on her face as she looked at Jaskier that looked identical to the frown Yennefer sent his way. “You must be Ciri.” Jaskier said, forcing himself to his feet and offering the young girl a small bow.

Ciri giggled, face relaxing as she sat herself on the edge of the bed. “You’re not like what I expected?” Ciri stated, eyeing Jaskier critically. Jaskier felt his heart plummet but he forced his face to remain impassive.

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Jaskier responded, earning him another frown from Ciri.

“You can sit down if you want?” Ciri said, voice unsure. Jaskier hesitated for a moment before nodding, sitting on the other side of Ciri. His hands trembled where they lay on his lap. “Are you scared of the Witchers?” Ciri asked. Jaskier didn’t respond. He didn’t think he was but a part of his mind still filled with doubt kept reminding him that the kindness the Witchers had shown him wouldn’t last. “They’re not scary and if you believe all the stories you’ve heard about Witchers then you’re an idiot.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered. He could hear the anger in the little girls voice and he knew the kindness the Witchers had shown him was done. If he had made Ciri angry then he was sure they would punish him for it. He knew that from experience.

Ciri frowned at him again, kicking her legs against the bed before starting to speak again. “Geralt told me I wasn’t allowed to see you.” Jaskier’s body tensed. If Geralt had said that then Geralt would be angry, and probably not with Ciri but with Jaskier. For a second Jaskier imagined Geralt being angry with Ciri, imagined Ciri being punished for ignoring Geralt’s words. The thought made Jaskier sick and he resolved that if Geralt found out about this then Jaskier would take all the blame, not Ciri. He could handle punishment, he had to.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Jaskier whispered, earning a giggle from Ciri that had a soft smile appearing on Jaskier’s lips. 

“Are you ok?” Ciri asked, voice filled with a childish innocence that made Jaskier speak the truth before he even thought about saying it.

“Not really.” Jaskier admitted, ducking his head in shame.

“That’s ok.” Ciri immediately said, bumping her shoulder against his. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Jaskier replied, expecting Ciri to be angry because people always were when he refused but instead Ciri nodded.

“That’s ok but if you do then you should.” Ciri fixed him with emerald eyes, filled with more knowledge than a 12 year olds eyes should. “It helped me after…after Nilfgaard killed my Grandparents.”

Jaskier was frozen for a moment, seeing tears sparkling in Ciri’s eyes. Acting on pure instinct, he wrapped his arms around the young girl, pulling her against his chest as he gently rocked her. Ciri wrapped her own arms around his waist, seeming to hold tighter as no doubt whatever horrible memory she had swirled in her mind. “How about a story?” Jaskier said, hoping for a way to distract Ciri from whatever grief she felt.

Ciri nodded against his chest and Jaskier desperately searched for a story to distract the sad girl in his arms. His mind found the beginning of a story and without wondering where it came from he started to speak.

……..

Jaskier’s soothing voice broke through Ciri’s mind, pushing aside the memories of screams and fires and a man on a horse with a bird of prey on his helmet. She felt herself relax against Jaskier’s side, breathing in the scent of soothing wildflowers as Jaskier spun his tale. A tale of a Princess locked in a tower guarded by a dragon, and a white knight who sleighed the dragon and saved the Princess.

As the story drew to an end, Ciri glanced up to see Jaskier was smiling softly. It was the first time she’d seen him smile and she couldn’t help smile in response. Jaskier had a nice smile, the kind of smile that filled his whole face, sending his eyes sparkling in happiness. It made Ciri happy just looking at it. As Jaskier finished speaking, Ciri nodded to herself. He might not be what she’d expected from an omega but Ciri thought Jaskier might just fit in Kaer Morhen perfectly. They were all broken here after all.

“You should be a bard.” Ciri stated into the silence. Jaskier stiffened at her side, eyes cast down to his hands. They had stopped trembling when telling the story but now they trembled once more.

“I wanted to be.” Jaskier admitted, tears glistening in his eyes. “But I can’t be a bard.”

“Why not?” Ciri demanded. 

“I…I don’t have an instrument.” Jaskier finally stated and Ciri snorted.

“Why do you have to have an instrument to be a bard? One bard came to Grandmothers court and she had the most beautiful singing voice in the world, and she didn’t have an instrument with her.” Ciri said, matter of factly.

“Oh.” Jaskier replied, voice quiet and hesitant.

“If you want to be a bard then you can be a bard.” Ciri said, mind decided. “That means you have to tell me stories whenever I want.”

Jaskier laughed at that, his laugh warm and twinkling, making Ciri grin widen. “You tricked me good lady.” Jaskier said in mock afront, resting a hand on his heart.

“Well, Yenenfer always says a Lady is always right.” She stated, standing up and sticking her nose in the air prim and proper.

Jaskier stood on his feet swiftly, giving her an elegant but mocking bow as he smiled. “Then it is my pleasure to give the Lady as many stories as she pleases.” Ciri grinned happily. Jaskier would fit in perfectly here, all she had to do was get him out of this room.

………..

That night at dinner, Geralt watched Ciri carefully. He had known Ciri since she was 7 years old and his child surprise had never been good at hiding something. Geralt sighed, hoping without much hope that she hadn’t decided to bring geese into the hot springs again like she had a few years ago. That had been horrendous, and bloody hard to clean up. Though the smile and gleeful laughing from Ciri had been worth it.

“Geralt.” Ciri stated, voice firm and mimicking Yennefer’s tone when she didn’t want to be argued with. Geralt turned to face Ciri, surprised to see her emerald eyes filled with seriousness. “The Witchers are going for a last supply run before the snows appear aren’t they?”

Geralt grunted, eyes narrowing as he answered. “Yes, Gerd’s going down with a few Bear Witchers tomorrow.” He could see Yennefer frowning at Ciri as Ciri nodded her head.

“I need to go down the path with them.” Ciri said, face serious as she face Geralt.

“Absolutely not.” Geralt growled. Ciri opened her mouth to protest but Geralt cut her off with a harsh look. “It isn’t safe down the path for you.” Ciri looked like she wanted to argue but she very deliberately turned her nose up at him, despite the anger clear in her gaze.

Geralt was impressed, if he’d said that a few years ago Ciri would have been furious, yelling and arguing with him. She’d obviously taken her lessons with Yennefer seriously. After all, Lady’s didn’t yell and shout. “Then I need the Witchers to get something?”

“What’s that?” Geralt asked.

“A lute. For Jaskier. He said he can’t be a bard without an instrument so he needs one.” And that…that just left Geralt looking at her in shock. A bard, Jaskier wanted to be a bard?

“And when did you speak to Jaskier about this?” Yenenfer asked, Ciri having the decency to look a little abashed having disregarded Geralt telling her the leave Jaskier be.

“I went to see him, this morning.” Ciri replied. Geralt felt anger coarse through him at Ciri’s words but he deliberately pushed them aside. He knew Ciri had been curious about Jaskier, she’d asked enough questions about the omega hidden away in Geralt’s rooms. Geralt shouldn’t be surprised Ciri had decided to investigate herself, despite Geralt telling her to stay away.

“Ciri, Jaskier needs rest.” Geralt said, trying to keep his voice calm as he searched for the right words. Ciri didn’t know what had happened to Jaskier, she was to young to know. Too you and too innocent to hear the stories of what had happened to the omega. 

“He’s lonely.” Ciri said, surprising Geralt into silence. Yennefer was frowning at Ciri, Triss and the other Witchers at the table silent not even pretending they weren’t listening to Ciri’s words now.

“Did he say something?” Geralt asked, internally cringing at what Jaskier might have said to Ciri. Did Jaskier tell Ciri something about his past? Geralt doubted Jaskier would have done so on purpose, the omega was near silent when Geralt saw him (and from what the other Witchers had said with them as well). And yet somehow Ciri had managed to gain enough to know that not only did Jaskier want a lute but that he was lonely as well.

“No.” Ciri said, unaware of Geralt’s inner turmoil as she continued speaking. “He…” Ciri hesitated, ducking her head a little before raising it and staring Geralt in the eye before continuing. “I upset him when I walked in his room. He wouldn’t tell me why but he said he was crying and when I asked if he was alright he said he wasn’t. I think he just needs someone to talk to.” Ciri shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world but Geralt just stared at her in shock. Ciri had managed to get Jaskier to admit to something not being ok, fuck every time Geralt or anyone asked the omega would just say he was fine when it was obvious he was anything but.

The rest of the dinner continued as normal but Geralt found himself quietly staring at his half eaten plate, mind running through the new information Ciri had given him. Jaskier was only. Jaskier wanted to be a bard. Well, if that was what Jaskier wanted Geralt resolved to have the Witchers bring back the best lute they could find.

………..

It was a week after Ciri’s initial visit and the young girl had become a fixture in Jaskier’s rooms every day since. She would appear sometime after lunch, staying for an hour as Jaskier told her stories upon stories. Ciri ate them up, sitting happily across from him as she listened intently. “Can you sing?” Ciri had asked on her 3rd visit, voice filled with eagerness. Jaskier had blushed, coughing slightly. It had been so long since he’d sung anything, the last time being a few days before Lettenhove, when he’d still been naïve and foolish enough to think he could follow his childhood dream. 2 days before his parents had told him he was being sent to Tretegor.

“I might be a bit rough.” Jaskier had grinned, straightening his spine and beginning the opening words to a ballad he’d learnt when he was 12. A passing bard, named Valdo Marx, had taught him the lyrics, sighting the then Julian would make an excellent bard and if he travelled to Oxenfurt he’d be more than happy to take Julian under his wing. It had been that day that had made Julian choose the name Jaskier for himself. After all, every bard needed their own name.

Ciri had clapped and grinned madly at the end of Jaskier’s singing, Jaskier’s heart soaring under her praise even as he ducked his head a little in embarrassment. After that day, Ciri demanded a song every time she visited. Jaskier would sing, Ciri dancing across the rooms floors smiling happily to the words. It was at times like that that Jaskier’s hands ached for the lute he’d been forced to leave behind in Lettenhove. He wondered what had happened to it, probably burnt knowing his Fathers thoughts on the lute. “A waste of time and frivolous entertainment.” 

Ciri’s visits had brought something back to Jaskier that he had long since thought gone. Before, he’d been more than happy to hide behind the bolted door of his room, knowing he was relatively safe in this room. But now, now an overwhelming curiosity flooded him. His songs and stories spoke of adventures, adventures he had yearned for as a young boy and now he could feel that yearning again. 

It was those thoughts that brought Jaskier to pull on the dark green doublet Yennefer had sent up to him and walk towards the oak door. His hand hesitated at the bolt, heart racing but Jaskier pushed it aside. Nothing had happened to him in Kaer Morhen, Geralt had told him he was safe and up until now he had kept his word. 

Bolstered by that knowledge, Jaskier forced himself to open the door and step outside of his room. His heart raced as he glanced down the dark corridor’s, expecting to see a Witcher outside who would grab him and throw him back into his room. Except no one was there.

Jaskier quietly reminded himself that the reason he’d chosen to leave his room now was because there were no Witchers around. His room had the perfect view over the Witcher training grounds and every morning at this time, Jaskier heard them training. Anyway, he wouldn’t wander to far, just a little exploration.

The corridor’s of Kaer Morhen were deserted. Considering Ciri had told him over 100 Witchers were now in the castle, and more expected in the next week as the snows cut off the path, you would have thought the castle was deserted. The few times Jaskier heard footsteps down the corridor, he quickly veered down another corridor to avoid being seen. He’d become adept at that in Tretegor, knowing if someone saw him wandering the corridor’s without permission he would be punished but his need to move, to put some distance between himself and Vizimir having him wander the castle until found. He’d lasted a full day once, before the guards had found him. He’d earned 50 lashed for that. 50 lashes and Vizimir tying him to the foot of his bed when he wasn’t being used for over a week after. It had been enough of a deterrent to stop Jaskier’s wandering for a long few months.

Jaskier paused when he walked down a corridor, a draft coming from behind a door. He paused, heart racing. The last time he’d been outside was when he’d come to Kaer Morhen. Even in Tretegor he’d been allowed time outside. Jaskier had frequented one of the old gardens when given permission to move around the castle. It had been a safe spot for him, that and Tretegor’s old library. Both places had next to no visitors, and enough places to hide should someone decide to go there.

The sudden need to go outside flooded Jaskier and he opened the door, booted foot stepping on the frozen grass. He shivered as he stepped into the sunlight, squinting up at the sun even as he smiled. The sun was warm on his face despite the biting chill as Jaskier walked out of the shade of Kaer Morhen and into the grass surrounding it. The sound of the Witcher’s swords clashing with one another echoed to his ears but Jaskier found his eyes trailing over Kaer Morhen, awe struck at the sight.

He’d had a quick glance when he’d first come here but he had been to overwhelmed to truly look. Now though he looked properly and what he saw took his breath away. Kaer Morhen was a huge black castle, the towers shooting up into the sky. It looked ominous and terrifying, but at the same time beautiful, almost otherworldly in its appearance. From where he stood, he had the perfect view of large mountains, capped with white snow. The grass surrounding Kaer Morhen was covered in frost, a hesitant splattering of snow covering some of the areas warning of the snow to come soon. A forest stretched for miles around, lush green, trees swaying in the wind. It was like a scene from a fairy tale.

As Jaskier turned around, smile on his face as the wind brushed against him he came face to face with Geralt. Whole body tensing, all the joy Jaskier had been feeling evaporated in a single breath.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of miscarriages and rape in this chapter.

Geralt had no idea what possessed him to wander around the sides of Kaer Morhen after training had finished for the day. He was hot and sweaty and his body craved a soak in the Kaer Morhen hot springs. And yet he found himself walking around the castle, enjoying the peace and quiet of the morning weather. It would be true winter soon, the snows building and closing the path off for the next few months. Geralt’s eyes drifted to the tops of the castle, running over the repairs that would need to happen before winter truly took hold. Lambert would say he was beginning to sound like Vesemir and the thought made Geralt chuckle softly.

Walking around the corner of one of Kaer Morhen’s long walls, Geralt was suddenly engulfed in the all empowering scent of wildflowers. Buttercups, dandelions, daisy’s, wet grass on a summer morning, lavender wafting across the warm wind joining the scents of roses and poppies. It knocked Geralt back with the headiness of that scent as his eyes fell on the figure responsible for it. Jaskier.

Jaskier has his back to Geralt but he could taste the joy and happiness in the air as Jaskier looked out to the forests surrounding Kaer Morhen. He was wearing one of the doublets Yenenfer had had the Witchers purchase for him. As Jaskier turned around, Geralt saw the green flecks in Jaskier’s eyes, brought out by the dark green of the doublet. And as Jaskier’s gaze fell no Geralt all of the joy fell from the world. The heady scent of wildflowers was replaced by a soured fear filled scent as Jaskier cowered, fucking cowered away from Geralt. Geralt had never hated himself more for being the cause of such fear that crossed the omegas features.

Geralt approached slowly, as he would a skittish horse. Hands hanging loosely by his side, making his posture unthreatening as possible, not an easy feat considering he was 6 foot of full muscle. Jaskier shrank as Geralt approached, body shivering and it was only then that Geralt noticed Jaskier had no cloak on. Growling, Geralt pushed his only leather jerkin off and threw it over Jaskier’s shoulders.

Both omega and alpha froze, Jaskier in fear and Geralt with…rightness? His scent mingled with the hint of wildflowers still clinging to Jaskier’s scent and it felt right. Jaskier ducked his head, hands wrapping around himself. He looked even smaller, thin body dwarfed by Geralt’s large jerkin. He’d gained some weight since being brought from Redania but Jaskier was still too thin. 

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered, voice quiet, body filled with tension. “I shouldn’t have left my room without permission.” Geralt frowned as Jaskier’s body tensed for a hit. It hurt to know Jaskier’s body was so used to accepting hits that he readied for them automatically.

“You’re a guest, not a prisoner.” Geralt grunted, face turning away from the omega to look up at Kaer Morhen’s imposing figure. “Explore as you like.”

Jaskier turned to look at Geralt, fear slowly disappearing from his scent as he followed Geralt’s gaze to look at Kaer Morhen. “It’s magical.” Jaskier whispered, voice hesitant but Geralt felt relief sore through him as Jaskier continued to speak. “Like something out of a fairy tale come to life.” Geralt hummed in answer. 

“It’s been here for centuries.” Geralt stated to fill in the silence that followed Jaskier’s words. Jaskier hummed at that, gaze moving to pass over the forest. “Ciri said you’re good at stories.” Geralt grunted, eyes watching as Jaskier tensed softly. “She likes you.”

“She’s…she’s a lovely girl.” Jaskier spoke, voice still hesitant as Geralt hummed. “She said the paths would close for winter soon.” 

“They will.” Geralt confirmed, watching Jaskier’s gaze pass over Geralt back to the landscape. The omega shivered again and Geralt frowned. “You’re cold?” Jaskier shrugged in answer, arms pulling Geralt’s jerkin closer.

“I’ve been colder.” Jaskier’s silent admission made Geralt’s heart ache. “I…it’s still hard, to understand all of this.” Jaskier said, voice quiet with a hint of reluctance as if he was admitting a failure. “But…but I think I’m beginning to believe you.” Geralt hummed, heart beaming at Jaskier’s words.

“I promised. No harm will come to you here. Or anywhere else.” Geralt swore again, earning a rare look from Jaskier. His brow was furrowed in confusion but Geralt could see the relief in Jaskier’s bright blue eyes before the omega once more dipped his head to hide his face from view. “Walk with me?” Geralt asked, nodding his head further down the castle. He saw the hesitancy in Jaskier’s posture and for a moment he thought he’d pushed to far but slowly Jaskier’s body relaxed and the omega nodded.

………

Geralt was near silent next to him as they walked the edges of Kaer Morhen. His jacket was a warm weight across Jaskier’s shoulders, filling him with the scent of oak trees, horse and a hint of onion. Jaskier felt himself relaxing in the warmth as his eyes roamed the scenery. But as he looked around, his gaze kept dipping back to Geralt. 

The white wolf struck an imposing figure. 6 feet tall, bulky and muscular, every part of him exuded power and strength. But despite how imposing Geralt looked, Jaskier didn’t feel afraid. He felt almost safe.

“Can I ask you something?” Jaskier asked, voice hesitant. He felt his body tense in automatic reaction but for once the fear that filled him alongside the action was absent. Geralt hummed, stopping in his long strides to look at Jaskier properly. Under that severe amber coloured gaze, Jaskier found his head dropping for a whole other reason than he normally would. “Why did you help me?”

He knew Geralt had explained it before but then he hadn’t understood. Now…he might not fully understand but he thinks he might be beginning to. “You needed help.” Geralt said, amber eyes blazing as he turned to face Jaskier fully. “If I could I would go back and stop that from ever happening to you again.”

Jaskier turned his face to meet Geralt, seeing only sincerity in those amber eyes. “No one else cared.” Jaskier whispered, tears burning at the edges of his eyes. “They didn’t care what he did to me. They joined in.” Geralt growled low and angry in his throat but for once Jaskier wasn’t afraid. He knew the growl wasn’t to him, rather for him.

“How long where you there?” Geralt asked, voice quiet and with no expectance for Jaskier to answer.

“8 years.” Jaskier whispered, heart clenching painfully in his chest. “I was 16.” Geralt brought a hand hesitantly to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder, squeezing softly. Jaskier felt himself lean into the touch as tears ran down his face. “I can’t escape what he did to me.” Jaskier whispered, the words pouring from him now they’d started. “Every time I close my eyes I remember his hands on me. Every time I look in the mirror and see the scars I remember what he did, I remember why he gave me to them. Every…” Jaskier choked on the words, Geralt pulling him close and Jaskier let him, resting his head against Geralt’s strong chest as Geralt’s arms wrapped solidly around him. “He took everything from me Geralt. My dignity, my life…my children.” Jaskier sobbed, knees buckling on those last words, Geralt’s strong arms the only thing keeping him up, the weight of his grief crushing him to the ground.

“There were 10 of them.” Jaskier whispered, voice breaking on the words as the words continued to tumble out. Geralt’s arms didn’t falter, holding Jaskier close, offering him strength as he broke down in Geralt’s arms. “I never got further than 4 months. I lost them…all of them.” Jaskier sobbed, despair flooding him as he remembered those 4 months. 4 months of fear and worry and panic. “Fuck, I never even got to know them, never even got to be happy I was pregnant.” Jaskier whispered. He remembered the first time he’d been pregnant. He’d been terrified, only 16 and pregnant. And then one brutal whipping because he’d broken a glass had caused his baby to be lost. 

“It will get better.” Geralt’s voice firm as he pulled Jaskier closer. Jaskier let himself go, body sagging against Geralt’s chest as tears flowed down his face.

“How?” Jaskier whispered, mating mark burning as if in complete refusal of Geralt’s words. “How can it be better when I still belong to him?” Geralt’s hand ran down Jaskier’s back, soothing a gentle weight there as Geralt growled above him.

“I’ll find a way. If I have to kill that bastard with my bare hands, I’ll make it better for you. Whatever it takes.” And Jaskier believed him.

………….

Geralt walked Jaskier back to his rooms, the omega unsteady on his feet after his break down. They’d stood like that for a long time, Jaskier sobbing and broken in Geralt’s arms. Sobbing over the loss he’d suffered. Fuck, 10 pregnancies, 10 miscarriages. Jaskier hadn’t shared the details of how he lost his children but Geralt knew. He knew with undying certainty. Vizimir.

He’s seen the bruises, the scars. He’d seen the fear written in every minute action. Jaskier expected to be punished for every tiny thing, every tiny fucking thing that any normal person took for granted. Expected to be hit for asking a question, to be hit for speaking, hit for fucking breathing. And Geralt had no doubt that despite Jaskier’s pregnancy, despite Vizimir saying he had mated Jaskier for the sole purpose of having children, that bastard wouldn’t have stopped touching or punishing or letting his nobles and guards hurting Jaskier just because he was pregnant.

What did the bastard think would happen? The stress Jaskier’s body had endured was bad enough without adding a pregnancy to the mix. It was little wonder Jaskier had never carried a child to term, his body wouldn’t have handled it. But the thought of the pain Jaskier must have felt at every lost child, whether wanted or not Geralt knew Jaskier would have felt that loss keenly. 10 losses. 10 times grief stricken with no one to care for him. It was sickening.

Geralt felt guilt eat through him as he walked away from Jaskier’s rooms. Despite the numerous reassurances from Jaskier that he would be fine, all followed by a brittle smile and eyes that clearly told Geralt that no he wouldn’t be, Geralt had very reluctantly left. He would have stayed but Jaskier had spent his whole life being ignored, his feelings not listened to, and Geralt refused to ignore Jaskier’s wishing even if every part of him told him to stay with the tormented omega. But Jaskier had asked him to leave so Geralt had very reluctantly agreed.

But as he walked away from the rooms, Geralt found his mind wandering to Jaskier’s words. Jaskier believed he still belonged to Vizimir, and how could he not when he still wore that bastards mark. Geralt didn’t even know his feet were carrying him to the library where he knew Yennefer and Triss were giving Ciri lessons.

As he walked in, he saw the three women’s gazes turn to him. “Ciri,” Geralt stated, ignoring the frown Yennefer sent him. “I need a word with Yennefer and Triss. Can you give us a few minutes?” Ciri went to argue but Geralt quickly added on, “I think Jaskier might like some company.” Ciri looked at Yennefer who nodded her head for her to go.

Ciri rolled her eyes as she passed Geralt. “You know I’m not a kid anymore.” Geralt smiled softly, no she was growing to be a young lady before there eyes. 

When Ciri was gone, he turned to Yenenfer and Triss, both of who were looking at him with increasing looks of concern. “What happened?” Yennefer asked.

“Nothing.” Geralt replied, seeing Triss relax minutely, though Yennefer continued to glare at him, knowing Geralt wouldn’t have interrupted Ciri’s training fi it wasn’t important. “I need you to do something. For Jaskier.”

“Is he ok?” Triss asked, voice filled with concern and Geralt shook his head, mind drifting to the 10 children Jaskier had told him he had lost. Yennefer’s violet eyes widened as her chaos drifted towards him, her mind easily reading his as easily as she always had. Her posture stiffened and violet eyes filled with rage and anger.

“The mark Vizimir gave him.” Geralt growled ignoring Triss’ question. “Can you get rid of it?”

Yennefer and Triss glanced at each other, Triss hesitating before speaking. “It’s possible.” Her voice was hesitant, frown on her face. “It’s difficult to do and deadly if done wrong.” Geralt growled. “And painful.”

“How painful?” Geralt demanded. He didn’t want to cause Jaskier more pain but he knew in the long wrong a little bit of pain for the freedom of loosing his bond to Vizimir would be worth it in the end.

Yennefer and Triss glanced at each other again, a silent conversation happening before Yenenfer spoke. “Very. A bond between an alpha and omega is a precious thing, it wraps two souls together for eternity.”

“It’s why when a bond occurs it has to be because both partners consent it. If it isn’t then the one who didn’t wish for it, usually the omega, will suffer agonising pain.” Geralt growled at Triss’ words. Vizimir would have known that, he would have known bonding with Jaskier when he didn’t want it would cause pain. And he fucking did it anyway.

“Breaking that bond involves severing the contact with the other person. It’s risky and dangerous. A person can go mad if not done right, or if done wrong they could die. Even done right the risks out way the results.” Yennefer spoke.

“But the same can be said for a bond not wanted.” Triss’ voice was quiet. “You saw how bad the mark looked.” Geralt growled, remembering the hot red angry skin around the mark. “It’s as risky to break the bond as it is to leave it untouched.”

“Then break it.” Geralt growled.

“We can get the items ready. It’ll take a while. A month, maybe more but we can break the bond.” Triss said but Yennefer turned her gaze to Geralt, violet eyes filled with pain and anger.

“But this isn’t our choice to make.” Yennefer continued. “It’s Jaskier’s. If he choses not to take the risk then we will respect that.” Geralt hummed in agreement. It was Jaskier’s choice, and if anyone deserved a choice it was Jaskier. But Geralt hoped with every fibre of is being that Jaskier chose to take that risk and remove the mark. At least then Jaskier would be free of that man.


	8. Chapter 8

After discussing how to get rid of the mating mark with Yennefer and Triss, Geralt had come down to Jaskier’s room to find Ciri standing outside it. She’d looked shaken, emerald eyes filled with worry as she looked at the closed door as if she wanted to go inside but didn’t dare. “What happened?” Geralt demanded, feeling anger overrun him at the thought of something having hurt his cub.

“Jaskier…he…” Ciri had tears in her eyes as she launched herself at him, hugging her arms around Geralt’s waist fiercely. “He looked so sad and hurt and…he told me to leave but I don’t think he should be alone.” Geralt hummed, heart aching at the thought of Ciri knowing the full truth of what had happened to Jaskier. Heart aching even more as he remembered Jaskier’s chilling words. Words of loss, not just his own life but the lives of his children. Fuck.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Geralt murmured into Ciri’s wild hair.

Ciri looked at him with emerald eyes. “You promise?” 

“I promise.” Geralt swore. With a single look at the door to Jaskier’s room, Ciri disappeared back down the hallway.

Geralt hadn’t hesitated then, knocking on Jaskier’s door only for the omega’s voice to echo through, filled with such despair and pain. “Please go away.” And despite everything in Geralt screaming at him to open that door and gather the distraught omega into his arms, he stopped himself. Not because he didn’t think that was what Jaskier needed, someone to comfort him in his grief as no one had ever comforted him before. No, the only thing stopping Geralt from barging the door open was Jaskier’s words. Jaskier, who hadn’t asked for a single thing since coming to Kaer Morhen, who had never been given a choice in his whole time in Redania had finally asked Geralt for something. And despite everything telling Geralt it was wrong to listen, he wouldn’t deny Jaskier’s request.

Geralt spent the rest of that day and night standing guard on the omega’s door, drawn back from going in because of Jaskier’s request, but unable to just walk away when he could so easily taste the despair thick in the air. Triss appeared with dinner for Jaskier, taking one glance at Geralt and hearing the distraught sobs from inside Jaskier’s rooms and pausing. “He doesn’t want anyone inside.” Geralt murmured, gaze fixed on the solid wooden door. Triss nodded, chaos buzzing in the air as she portaled the food into Jaskier’s room before leaving Geralt to his silent guard. Geralt doubted Jaskier ate on of it.

The muffled sobs went on through the day and a few hours past dawn until they were finally replaced by the soft breathing of sleep. Geralt had wanted to believe that would be the end of Jaskier’s suffering, at least for the day but something had kept him standing there. The corridor outside Jaskier’s rooms was filled with the scent of a meadow on a stormy rainswept day, an undertone of grief that lay heavy on Geralt’s heart and stopped any other Witcher coming down this particular corridor. Geralt had thought that was the worst of it, he was wrong.

It started at what Geralt guessed to be midnight. The subtle change in scent wafting through the closed door. No longer like rain soaked grass, now like decaying flowers. He heard soft whimpers from inside the room, heard Jaskier thrashing in the bed and without pausing to think what he was doing, Geralt was stalking to the room and shoving the bedroom door open with enough force to break the lock Jaskier had clicked in place.

Jaskier was struggling under the mound of furs and blankets, fear and pain clear in his scent as he whimpered and sobbed brokenly in sleep. There was no one else in the room, only Jaskier. Jaskier and his memories. Geralt hadn’t hesitated then, the alpha part of himself in full control as he saw the painful suffering of the omega.

Geralt had taken Jaskier’s trembling, shaking body in his arms, pulling Jaskier tight to his chest. Jaskier struggling, his sleep addled brain believing Geralt apart of his nightmares as he hit out at Geralt and whimpered. Geralt didn’t let go, wrapping Jaskier in warm protective arms as Jaskier’s struggling slowed before ceasing entirely. His breathing was rapid but not the panicked breaths Geralt had expected.

“I can leave.” Geralt had murmured, chin resting on the top of Jaskier’s soft brown hair. Geralt could imagine running fingers through it, imagined how soft it would feel. He could imagine burying his face there, being surrounded by the scent of wildflowers, the scent of Jaskier.

“Stay.” Jaskier’s voice, almost inaudible in the black of the night, whispered. Geralt had only hummed, moving himself so he was sat on the bed. He loosened his grip, allowing Jaskier the opportunity to pull away but instead Jaskier hesitantly pressed himself closer to Geralt’s side, resting his head lightly on Geralt’s chest. His whole body was tense, as if ready to jump away at a moment’s notice.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Geralt whispered, voice as quiet as Jaskier’s was as if afraid to break the quiet of the room.

“Not really.” Jaskier replied, burying his face in Geralt’s chest and curling himself closer to the Witcher. His scent had lost the scent of decaying flowers, instead smelling of the wildflowers Geralt had so quickly come to associate with the omega.

Geralt hummed, running a hand through Jaskier’s soft hair. The omega tensed breathing hitching as if waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he slowly relaxed against Geralt’s chest. “Tell me a story.” Jaskier whispered into the night.

“What about?” Geralt asked.

“Anything.” Jaskier whispered. Geralt’s shirt was turning damp and narrowing his pupils to see in the dark, Geralt could see the tears flowing freely from Jaskier’s face.

Geralt settled himself against the headboard of the bed, mind scanning for something, anything to tell Jaskier, to distract the omega from the horrors. “I don’t know many stories.” Geralt admitted after a moment, earning a surprised chuckle from the omega in his arms.

“Then tell me about your life.” That perhaps, Geralt could do.

He spent hours that night speaking, telling Jaskier of his training to become a Witcher, not bothering to sugar coat the horrific truth of the trials. Told him of his brothers, lambert and Eskel, of Vesemir and his life growing up in Kaer Morhen, both good and bad. Spoke of his life on the path, of the losses and heartache of it all, of being shunned and hated in every village, city and town despite never once doing anything to deserve it. Told Jaskier of Renfri, of Blaviken, of how he had loved her. Told him of Yennefer, of how he had fallen for the Sorceress and tied the lives together through destiny, of how they had fallen out of love, of how they had admitted the truth of how destructive their love for each other could be. Told Jaskier of Ciri, of the law of surprise, of rescuing Ciri from Cintra when Nilfgaard attacked. Told him of the all encompassing terror of raising a young girl. Told Jaskier every trial and torment and happiness in his life.

And as dawn finally broke through the dark sky, illuminating the room in a pale weak sunlight, Geralt looked to fae Jaskier properly. Jaskier’s blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears, looking at Geralt with pain and heartache. “I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered, hand coming to hesitantly trail a line over Geralt’s face. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I’m sorry for the way you’re treated, the way you’re still treated.”

“Don’t be.” Geralt growled, eyes glancing over the way the weak sunlight seemed to shine around Jaskier, making the omega look more beautiful than Geralt had ever believed anyone to be before. “I’m a Witcher.”

“That doesn’t excuse it.” Jaskier pushed away from Geralt, something akin to anger flashing in those large blue eyes. “No one has a right to hate someone for…for something they can’t control. You didn’t ask to be a Witcher, you didn’t ask to be experimented on. They have no right to call you monsters, no right to hate you simply for existing.”

“Just as Vizimir had no right to hurt you just because of your biology.” Geralt hummed, seeing the anger deflate from Jaskier. Jaskier dropped his head, tears running down his face. Geralt growled angrily at himself. “Jaskier, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m…”

“Don’t.” Jaskier whispered, blue eyes lifting to look at Geralt properly. “Don’t apologise.” Geralt watched as Jaskier seemed to sag backwards into the bed, hands trembling in his lap as he turned blue eyes to Geralt. “Why does the world hate us?” Jaskier whispered and Geralt smirked softly.

“They hate what they don’t understand, what they cannot control.”

“They controlled me easily enough.” Jaskier laughed self-deprecatingly. “You know I never fought back. Not once. I just accepted what he did to me, what they all did to me.” Geralt hesitantly placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, heart-warming as Jaskier immediately leant into the touch. Jaskier leant against Geralt’s side, letting Geralt arms encircle him in a halfway hug and smiled softly. “You know I can’t remember the last time someone held me.”

Geralt felt anger flash through him but pushed it aside, instead pulling Jaskier closer so the omega was sat almost on his lap. The scent of wildflowers surrounded Geralt, making something deep inside him purr in contentment. “I wanted to go with Vizimir you know.” Jaskier whispered, eyes downcast to look at his trembling fingers. Geralt took Jaskier’s fingers in his own, squeezing softly. They were long fingers, made for playing the lute, not for captivity.

“I was a foolish stupid boy.” Jaskier whispered, tears pricking his eyes as he leant closer into Geralt’s chest. Geralt tightened his hold automatically, offering silent comfort as Jaskier spoke. “I was a Viscount you know. Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz.” Jaskier snorted at the name, the salt taste of tears filling the room as he spoke. “I was going to Oxenfurt, to train in the seven liberal arts, it was all planned for after I presented. Except then I presented as an omega and my parents destroyed those dreams. An omega can’t train in a prestigious school like Oxenfurt, they said.” Jaskier’s voice rose in anger as he spoke. “An omega is only good for one thing, bearing the children of their alpha.”

“Bollocks.” Geralt growled, earning a wet laugh from Jaskier.

“I though so to. Made it my life’s mission to make them regret those words to.” Jaskier laughed softly, remembering a past younger self, so full of ambition and confidence. Geralt could almost imagine the man Jaskier should have been, if not for Vizimir. “Every suitor they introduced me to I’d scare away. Ridiculous things really,” Jaskier laughed, the sound vibrating through Geralt’s chest. “One nobleman I scared off by only speaking elder for the duration of his stay. My Father was furious when the old alpha said he didn’t want an elven bastard as his mate.” Geralt snorted at the thought as Jaskier laughed softly, before Jaskier slowly sobered up.

“We lived in Lettenhove, a tiny estate in Kerack, a none interest country where no one but the people living in it cared what happened.” Jaskier’s voice had taken on a sad, dulled edge now, making Geralt’s heart ache. “We weren’t even meant to go to Tretegor but my Father had business there, with a Redanian nobleman who lived in the city. Fuck, my Father only let me come with him because I promised the next suitor he suggested I would give at least half a chance to.” The tears had started to fall again as Jaskier spoke.

“It turned out the man my Father had business with was a member of King Vizimir’s council. We stayed in the palace, my Father, Mother and I. I loved it, those first few days. I’s never left Kerack until then and Tretegor had been full of mystery, beauty. My parents didn’t much care what I did as long as I didn’t embarrass them, so they let me explore as I wanted.” Jaskier’s voice hitched as he tired to muffle a sob. Geralt pressed his head into Jaskier’s hair, pulling Jaskier close to his chest to offer the little comfort he could. It must have worked because Jaskier slowly relaxed against him.

“I met King Vizimir on my 3rd day there. In the castle gardens. I’m ashamed to admit I fell in love with him a little. Not true love but a foolish, childish version of love.” Geralt felt his heart break at the thought of Vizimir taking advantage of a young Jaskier. “He gave me a rose from the garden, he’d smiled and told me how he hoped it would remind me of him.” Jaskier sobbed brokenly at the memory. “That night at dinner he asked me to dance with him, my parents had been thrilled and me being the naïve fool I was had been ecstatic. I remember the dance, the way his arms wrapped around my waist, settling there and holding me closer than the other dancers there. At the time I’d thought it was because he felt the same way I did but…” Jaskier broken off with a sob. “Fuck.”

“It’s ok.” Geralt hummed against Jaskier’s hair.

“He courted me for the next 3 weeks, sent me flowers, gifts, took me on long walks and dinners alone. My parents were over the moon, even happier when King Vizimir asked the day before we were due to leave for my hand. The ceremony was arranged a week later. He couldn’t marry me because he was already married but he wanted the ceremony to be official, so any children I gave him wouldn’t be seen as bastards I suppose. He said he would mate me during my first heat. It all happened so fast, like a dream.” Jaskier whispered, body trembling in Geralt’s arms. “And I was so happy. I thought I was getting my freedom. I thought he loved me. It took our first night together to force me to realise the truth and by then, it was too late.”

Geralt didn’t say a word as Jaskier sobbed brokenly in his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around the crying omega, rocking him back and forth as Jaskier cried in heart wrenching gasps, the pain of the last 8 years finally having an outlet. There wasn’t anything he could say.


	9. Chapter 9

Jaskier hadn’t thought he would ever feel safe again, let alone in the arms of an alpha. But somehow, wrapped in Geralt’s tight warm embrace, he felt it. Geralt’s arms were strong around him, holding Jaskier close to his chest but Jaskier didn’t feel constricted or trapped, he felt held. Great’s chin was rested lightly on Jaskier’s head, the small huff of breath from the white haired Witcher making Jaskier’s hair move as if from the wind on a spring day. Geralt’s hands were wrapped in Jaskier’s, lessening the trembling he felt there, squeezing softly as if to offer comfort.

The oaky scent of Geralt’s mixed with Jaskier’s own meadowy scent, transporting the omega into a different place in time. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine sitting in the middle of a forest, birds chirping ahead, the sun shining down on him, Geralt holding him close as they lay and listened to the world.

For the first time in a long time, Jaskier felt free. Like he could do anything he wanted, like he could anything he wanted. The long seated fear he’d felt for years, ever since that first night with Vizimir, didn’t feel so great anymore. It was still there, hiding in the depths of Jaskier’s mind but it felt like it had less of a hold on him somehow, like Jaskier could almost pretend it wasn’t there.

“I don’t want to feel like a prisoner anymore.” Jaskier whispered into the light of the dawn morning. Geralt hummed behind him and Jaskier could almost pretend to see the furrow of confusion in Geralt’s eyes even as he felt a soft blush heat his own cheeks. “I…I mean…I know you weren’t holding me prisoner…but…” Jaskier trailed off, unable to voice the way he had felt since coming here. How the crippling fear and anxiety had stopped him from truly being able to feel like anything but a prisoner only here for the whim of the Witchers. Until now.

“Have breakfast in the great hall.” Geralt grunted above him, his chest vibrating and sending a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. Though not the usual thrill of fear but…something else, something Jaskier couldn’t quite place. Almost like familiarity, contentment…happiness?

“I…” Jaskier hesitated. That would mean facing how ever many Witchers that were hear in Kaer Morhen. Ciri had mentioned the Witchers numbered well over 200, and the number would only grow until the path closed for winter. He didn’t think he was ready to see that many alpha’s in one place. His hands shook in Geralt’s at the thought and Geralt growled behind him.

“You don’t have to.” Geralt’s voice was soothing, a deep timbre that would have frightened most people but for some unexplainable reason quieted Jaskier’s anxiety as he relaxed once more into Geralt’s chest. “But breakfast isn’t too busy. Most Witchers don’t sit in the great hall for breakfast, just grab food and head down for training.” As if sending Jaskier’s apprehension, Geralt’s arms tightened minutely around him. “I’ll be there. And if it’s to much we can leave.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” Jaskier whispered, face heating in shame.

“You’re not.” Geralt growled. “You’re never that.”

………..

Jaskier waited for Geralt to return with apprehension filling his heart. Geralt had gone to change out of clothing, though Jaskier knew it was more to give Jaskier the chance to change in peace without the alpha’s scrutinising glare. He’d washed his face from the tears the night before, wincing as he caught a glance in the looking mirror that had been packed into the chest of new clothes for him. His blue eyes were red from crying, black circles clear around his eyes from the lack of sleep. But as he dressed he felt a determination fill him that he hadn’t felt in so long.

A determination that was slowly dwindling the longer Geralt took to re-appear.

He’d dressed in the dark blue breeches and doublet, red and yellow flowers sewn intricately in the dark blue fabric. It was soft on his skin, more like silk that the cotton Jaskier knew it to be. Jaskier wrung his hands together, heart racing as he considered if he was dressed appropriately. As much as he liked the bright, flamboyant clothing he knew it wasn’t the correct dress for an omega. The clothes Vizimir, and even his parents had given him had always been dulled colours. Omega’s were enough of a distraction with their scent, they didn’t need to then wear flamboyant clothing to drag every eye to them.

Jaskier was half way to the chest to change into the duller clothes he’d brought from Redania when a knock appeared at his door. Jaskier hesitated only for a moment before clearing his throat and saying, “Come in.” He winced at the hesitance still in his tone as Geralt walked in.

The large alpha’s amber eyes widened a fraction upon seeing Jaskier, seemingly growing brighter as he looked at him. It made Jaskier shift nervously under the gaze, doubt settling heavy in his stomach. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Geralt all but growled. “You look…I mean…fuck…” Geralt cursed, angrily glaring at the floor as if the stone flooring was responsible for his inability to speak his mind. Before Jaskier could stop himself he let out a soft laugh at the display, body tending instantly as he waited for Geralt to strike him in anger for laughing at the other alpha.

But Geralt only hummed, ducking his eyes before looking at Jaskier again and humming. “Breakfast?” Geralt growled and Jaskier nodded, motioning for Geralt to lead the way.

………..

Geralt was half tempted to turn back as Jaskier grew tenser and tenser the closer they got to the great hall. They passed numerous Witchers on the way down the corridor, all looking at Jaskier in surprise even as Jaskier seemed to grow smaller under the gaze, moving closer towards Geralt as if for protection.

They paused just before the half open doors to the great hall, the noise and shouts of the Witchers in there making Jaskier’s flowery scent turn sour in fear. “We don’t have to.” Geralt murmured, hand hovering at Jaskier’s back but not moving to touch, unsure if his touch would be welcome.

Jaskier glanced at him, blue eyes shining at Geralt. It made Jaskier’s whole face light up. Gone where the tired black circles under his eyes, the redness still left from the crying done only this morning. Instead Jaskier’s face turned into a beaming ray of sunshine, lips turned into a hesitant smile as the literal sun radiated from Jaskier’s cornflower blue gaze. And then Jaskier was turning away, the room seeming to grow darker for a second.

“I won’t be a prisoner to fear anymore.” Jaskier whispered, words obviously for himself not realising Witcher hearing allowed Geralt to hear the quiet words. Geralt watched with no small amount of awe as Jaskier steeled his shoulders back and walked into the great hall.

………..

Jaskier froze as the hall seemed to grow silent as he walked in. What felt like a hundred pairs of eyes but were in reality only around 50 turned to stare at him. The golden gaze of every Witcher turned to the omega that had walked into their lair. The scent of alpha was strong in the room, knocking Jaskier dizzy and giving him the sudden urge to run back to his rooms and bar the door for all eternity. 

And then a strong, gentle hand appeared on the small of back and the Witchers turned back tot heir conversation, the thud of conversation and laughter once more filling the room. Geralt stepped close behind Jaskier, hand a firm weight on Jaskier’s back. “You ok?”” Geralt murmured, voice soft and gentle as Jaskier forced his hammering heart to calm down.

“I…I think so.” Jaskier murmured back, letting Geralt push him in the direction of a table at the far end of the room.

A number of Witchers were already seated their but Geralt pushed Jaskier to an area of the table unoccupied, something Jaskier was grateful for as he didn’t know how he would react if forced to sit in the midst of a large number of alphas. He saw Eskel in the others in the table, watching Geralt intently before moving back to a conversation he was having with another burly Witcher.

Geralt pushed out a chair for Jaskier to sit in, the omega feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he settled himself into the seat. Geralt dropped in the chair behind him before grabbing a few chunks of bread and wads of cheese.

Jaskier hesitated as he watched Geralt fill his plate, unsure what he was allowed to have and not. “Take whatever you like.” Geralt murmured next to him as if sensing Jaskier’s hesitance. Jaskier nodded, hesitantly picking up a few pieces of the fruit sitting in the bowls. He saw Geralt frown but the white haired Witcher didn’t say a word.

“Rabbit food’s not breakfast.” Lambert grunted, dumping himself into the chair opposite Geralt and grabbed chunk of bread from Geralt’s plate. Geralt growled, swatting Lambert’s hand away as Lambert laughed heartedly. “Looks like the wolf’s grumpy this morning.”

“Anyone would be grumpy having to listen to you in a morning.” Triss appeared behind Lambert, settled herself gracefully into the chair opposite Jaskier. She gave the omega a vibrant smile as she took filled her own plate and began eating.

“Fuck you Merigold.” Lambert growled.

“You wish.” Triss replied expertly, earning a laugh from Aidan who had settled himself next to Lambert.

“Why that an invitation?” lambert grinned, turning to Triss and winking at her seductively. Jaskier felt his body tense at Lambert’s crude words but Triss just rolled her eyes and pointedly ignored him. “Anyone’d be luck to fuck me.”

“Course they would.” Eskel settled himself next to Geralt. “If they were fat, ugly and desperate.”

Lambert swore at Eskel, throwing a wad of cheese at Eskel’s head who expertly dodged it. Triss rolled her eyes, knocking her knee against Jaskier’s as she turned to him. “Men.” 

“I think you mean Witchers.” Jaskier said without thinking, body tensing as he realised what he said.

“Fuck you buttercup.” Jaskier felt his heart hammering painfully in his chest at Lambert’s words, Lambert who suddenly had a look of guilt flashing across his face as Geralt glared at him, fists clenching under the table like he planned to punch Lambert into oblivion.

“Yennefer says your not meant to swear at the dinner table.” Ciri’s voice appeared, jumping into the seat next to Jaskier, completely oblivious to the tension suddenly flooding the table. Yennefer’s violet gaze settled on Jaskier, soft frown on her face. 

“Good thing he’s not a lady then.” Eskel grinned, earning a laugh from the table and some of the tension leaking from Jaskier’s shoulders. Geralt’s knee bumped against his and Jaskier couldn’t help but turn to look t Geralt. Geralt was looking at him with worry and Jaskier couldn’t help but smile softly in return. It had been so long since someone had felt worried about him.

“Morning Jaskier.” Ciri said, voice bright as she turned to face him, emerald eyes lighting up. Jaskier smiled back, offering his own soft morning before turning to face his own food. He didn’t feel very hungry now, a dead weight having settled in his stomach as he sat surrounded by the Witchers and their family. He didn’t belong here, he didn’t deserve to sit in their banter and listen to them speaking. He was just an omega. A pathetic, useless omega.

……

Geralt felt Jaskier slowly retreat into himself as breakfast wore on and promised himself he would kick Lambert to the dirt during the next training bout for causing this. He glanced in Yennefer’s direction, seeing her violet eyes staring at him accusingly. “What are you doing today Jaskier?” Ciri’s voice, trying to pull Jaskier into the conversation. Geralt would have been grateful for Ciri’s attempts at including Jaskier if not for the way the table went silent and Jaskier tensed even more in his seat.

“I…I’m not…I mean…I don’t really…” Jaskier’s voice faded into silence as he stared at the table, face turning an embarrassed shade of red. 

“Perhaps you can help me.” Vesemir stated, having settled himself at the table at some point during the conversations, watching the Witchers banter back and forth in amusement. Jaskier’s head shot up to stare at Vesemir in blind panic. Geralt could smell the anxiety throwing off Jaskier in waves as Geralt glared Vesemir as if to shut the old wolf up. But Vesemir had spent his life dealing with Witcher trainees and wasn’t phased by the white wolfs glare.

“I need some help sorting the library out. My pups aren’t overly patient in that regard so I thought you could help.” Jaskier’s eyes seemed to brighten a little at the mention of Kaer Morhen’s vast library but his body still remained tense.

“You don’t have to.” Geralt growled, voice low and filled with a warning to all those on the table not to push.

“No.” Jaskier said, voice quiet and with an edge of panic in it. “I…I want to help.”

“Good, meet me in the library after breakfast.” Vesemir stated, getting up from the table and leaving a furious Geralt and an extremely tense Jaskier in his wake.

…………

Jaskier had known Geralt was angry. He had felt that anger fill the entire room as Vesemir, who Ciri had told him the name of under whispered breath as the old wolf had first sat at the table. It had made the tense breakfast all the tenser, Jaskier not even pretending to try and eat now as he silently prayed for the ground to swallow him up. Something about the old wolf put Jaskier’s mind in memory of Vizimir. Both had been older, hair nearly grey and an aura surrounding them that commanded respect from everyone around. It terrified Jaskier at the thought of helping this man.

Ciri, sensing Geralt’s anger, dragged the white wolf away from the breakfast towards the training grounds followed by Lambert and Eskel. It left Triss and Yennefer sitting at the table with Jaskier. Something he didn’t know if he was pleased or not about.

“I can take you up to the library if you want?” Triss’ voice hesitant as she spoke. Jaskier just nodded, voice sticking in his throat. Yennefer and Triss shared concerned looks but neither said anything as Jaskier got up from the table to follow Triss.

Triss left Jaskier inside the largest library Jaskier had ever seen. For a moment, the mere sight of it set Jaskier’s anxiety at ease. He had always thought Tretegor’s library was impressive, but this put Tretegor’s to shame. Every wall and ceiling was filled with books, two long tables in the middle of the room with books covering the surfaces as well. The windows were floor to ceiling in length, letting in the winter sunlight and making the otherwise dim room bright with colour.

“I’ve been adding to the collection for years.” Vesemir’s voice stated behind Jaskier. Jaskier turned around, body tense and gaze on the floor as Vesemir moved into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Jaskier’s fear as he continued speaking. “Unfortunately I’ve never had much time to organise it all and none of the other Witchers have ever had an interest in helping.”

Jaskier didn’t say a word as Vesemir walked into the room. He kept his mouth firmly closed as he continued to look to the floor, waiting for Vesemir’s orders of what to do now. “I need help organising the collection. It’s not a quick job, will probably take some time to do but it’ll keep you busy.”

“Sir.” Jaskier whispered, voice breaking on the word as fear gripped his heart.

Vesemir turned to Jaskier, his amber eyes taking on a soft sad expression. “You don’t need to call me sire.” Jaskier didn’t say a word, fear still gripping his heart. “And I don’t mean to frighten you. I’ve always found a distraction is a good way to rid myself of unwanted thoughts.”

“I…I want to be useful.” Jaskier whispered, earning him a grunt from Vesemir.

“This is helpful. At least to me it is. My old eyes don’t let me see the writing as well as they used to. Though don’t you tell my pups that, they’ll never let me live it down.” Jaskier couldn’t help the half smile that crossed his face. “There’s no rush for this to be done. Just when you need the escape, come here and work. It will settle your mind.” 

Jaskier chanced a glance at Vesemir, suddenly feeling foolish for his fear. Vesemir wasn’t Vizimir. Yes, the names sounded similar. Yes both had greying hair and were of a similar age, height and even build. But where Vizimir’s eyes had been hard and unforgiving, Vesemir’s were only kind.

“Thank you.” Jaskier whispered and Vesemir nodded, placing a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and squeezing before moving away from the omega.

“If you need help with repairs ask one of the Witchers, they’ll help gladly.” Vesemir hesitated for a moment longer before adding. “You’re safe here.”

“I think I’m starting to believe that.” Jaskier whispered as Vesemir exited the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Geralt met Coen in the stables as the Griffin Witcher was beginning to unload the last of the winters supplies. The clouds had taken on a grey colour that afternoon and Geralt knew it signalled the start of the winter storms. By this time tomorrow the path would be completely and not even a Witcher would get through. They had 300 Witchers in Kaer Morhen for winter, including Triss, Yennefer and Ciri. And Jaskier.

“Townspeople were more than a little confused when I got this.” Coen stated as he handed over a leather case to Geralt. Geralt hummed, eyes watching as Gerd and few other Witchers began the task of unloading the wagons and sorting the supplies. 

“Bet they couldn’t begin to imagine a Witcher making music.” Aidan laughed from where he was carrying a large sack of potatoes over his shoulder towards the kitchens.

“It’s for Jaskier.” Geralt growled, warning in his tone. Aidan, wisely decided to keep his mouth shut after hearing that, not surprising considering Geralt’s anger with both Lambert and Vesemir.

4 days prior, after Jaskier had all but fled from the breakfast table, Geralt had been furious. Overprotective anger rolled off him as he stalked out to the training fields in search of Lambert. Logically he knew Lambert hadn’t meant any harm. The younger Witcher was crass by nature, words coming out before he’d had a chance to think them through. But he had upset Jaskier with his words. Geralt had smelt the sour tang of fear in Jaskier’s scent, had heard the faint pick up of Jaskier’s breathing, heart hammering in the omegas chest at Lambert’s unthinking word.

Lambert hadn’t said a word of protest as Geralt taught the Witcher a lesson. He’d always been stronger than his brothers, the extra mutagens making Geralt a deadly opponent to even the most seasoned Witcher. It was why he was Warlord, why the Witchers had chose him to lead them. Lambert left the training ground that day exhausted covered in bruises (all healed by the next day thanks to the Witchers fast healing bodies) and grumbling about overprotective bastard alphas. Geralt hadn’t much cared, anger only half tempered by putting Lambert in his place regarding Jaskier.

Vesemir on the other hand had been unrepentant. Despite the fact Jaskier’s fear of the old wolf was obvious tot hem all. Even a blind man could have seen the way Jaskier became tense, scent showing the fear and anxiety building in the omega as he’d left breakfast that day to do Vesemir’s bidding. Fuck, Geralt had been ready to tear his old mentor apart the moment he had suggested giving Jaskier work to do. Would have if not for both Ciri and Jaskier sitting at the table.

But when he went to confront Vesemir about it the old wolf had just levelled a gaze at Geralt and said, “It’ll be good for the boy to learn his place here.”

“His place isn’t to serve you. Isn’t to serve any of us.” Geralt had growled in anger, something in Vesemir’s eyes softening at those words but his voice remained no less firm.

“Jaskier needs to feel like he belongs in this castle. Right now he’s a guest, nothing more. If he’s to stay here, even if only for the winter, he needs to find a place here. The library will give him a safe place, something to do to keep himself occupied and feel like he’s contributing.” Vesemir had placed a gentle hand on Geralt’s shoulder then, squeezing softly as amber eyes looked into Geralt’s. “I know you want to help him but believe me, sheltering the boy won’t do him any good.”

And as much as Geralt had wanted to argue against Vesemir he’d been unable to, knowing his old mentor was right.

The next morning, Geralt had fully expected Jaskier to remain once more hidden in his rooms. He’d been wondering when would be the best time to excuse himself and bring Jaskier up his breakfast when the faint scent of wildflowers appeared in the great hall. Jaskier had stood at the entrance to the great hall, dressed in a dark red doublet and breeches which had Geralt’s heart stuttering for a moment. Yennefer and Triss had chosen well, the clothes seeming to mould to Jaskier’s body and extenuate every curve and line he had. And the colours, it made Jaskier the brightest thing in Kaer Morhen. Like a shining light in the usually dark and dim castle.

Geralt had been half on his feet to grab Jaskier’s attention when Ciri beat him to it. She ran from the table, giddy with excitement as she grabbed Jaskier’s hand and all but dragged him up to the table. Jaskier sat himself between Ciri and Triss, the former instantly starting to regale Jaskier with chatter about her day. Jaskier had sat there looking a little bemused but had happily listened to everything Ciri said and added in his own commentary as the day wore on.

Once breakfast was done, Jaskier had disappeared. Geralt had quietly followed the omega, not wanting Jaskier to get lost in the large castle, to the library where Geralt had had to grudgingly admit perhaps Vesemir was right. In the large quiet library, with no one around Jaskier seemed to transform. He picked up a book, small smile on his face as he opened the pages. Silent mumbles followed under his breath as he skimmed the pages before seemingly placing the book on a table at random before repeating the motion with another and then another and then another book. Geralt stood there for nearly an hour watching Jaskier, seeing the animated smooth movements the omega made as he sorted the old library into different piles. It was heart warming to see.

Now Geralt held the old lute in hand and once more followed the heady scent of wildflowers up to the library, hoping Jaskier would appreciate the gift and not retreat further into himself.

…………

Jaskier startled from where he was sitting at the large bay window, surrounded by books and his nose buried in one as Geralt grunted at the entrance. His scent turned from heady wildflowers to the sour stink of fear, only to return once more back to smelling of the meadow on a sunny morning upon blue eyes meeting amber ones. Geralt hummed, heart warming as he realised Jaskier was slowly learning to not be afraid here. To not be afraid of him.

“What are you reading?” Geralt grunted as Jaskier jumped to his feet, frowning as he saw the slight wince to Jaskier’s movements. Jaskier no longer walked with the limp upon first coming to Kaer Morhen but Geralt still saw the stiffness of the movements, the slight winces if he turned to fast. Old scars hurt, especially in winter, leaving an ache in the bones even Witchers felt. Geralt knew how his own scars felt, he could only imagine the pain Jaskier must be in from his own scars. As if Jaskier hadn’t suffered enough.

“Elven poetry.” Jaskier said, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink as he placed the book down, though without closing it so as not to lose his page Geralt noted. “I was…well, I was sorting the books and I came across this and…well…”

“You don’t need to explain.” Geralt growled, stepping further into the room, aware of the weight of the lute case on his back. “Vesemir will be glad someone other than him is enjoying the library.” The pink colouring on Jaskier’s cheeks turned a little redder and Geralt hummed.

“What can I do for you, oh great white wolf?” Jaskier grinned, giving an exaggerated bow even as his scent turned slightly sour around the edges. Recently Jaskier had started to become less quiet and reserved, ranting poetry Lambert called it, and acting like a gentleman as Triss put it. He was still quiet but every now and again when Jaskier added his thoughts to the breakfast conversation they could all hear the slight edges of Jaskier’s humour coming across. It warmed Geralt’s heart, despite the slight tinge of fear still lingering in Jaskier’s scent every time he did act that way. Despite everything, Jaskier still expected some form of punishment or anger as a result of his actions and it made Geralt’s blood boil just thinking about it.

Jaskier came out of his bow elegantly, though Geralt didn’t miss the flash of pain that crossed Jaskier’s face. It was gone in the blink of an eye and Geralt could have pretended not to have seen it if not for the way Jaskier was standing so stiffly, muscles of his back tense as if it ached. “You’re in pain.” Geralt growled, internally wincing at the anger in his tone.

Jaskier just laughed nervously, waving a hand in the air. “No more than usual.” That made Geralt’s nostrils flare in anger. Jaskier was in pain, and it wasn’t new. 

“Where?” Geralt growled, hating the way Jaskier flinched away from the anger in his tone.

“It’s…well, it’s nothing new. As I said, I’m fine.” Geralt growled and Jaskier cowered slightly before suddenly straightening his back with a defiant look in his eye. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” Geralt growled, pride washing through him at the way Jaskier stood his ground despite the obvious scent of fear filling the room. “I just want to help.” Geralt let his tone soften slightly, Jaskier seeming to relax as well at the calmer tone. That was new, Geralt though as Jaskier sighed and dropped back into the window seat.

“It’s nothing, really.” Jaskier said, offering Geralt a smile that didn’t reach his eye. “Just old hurts. They always act up this time of the year. Weather and all.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively even as he shifted in his seat, hand coming to rest on his ribs with a pained frown on his face.

“Your ribs.” Geralt growled, coming to lean against one of the tables in the great hall. “Triss and Yennefer said they could heal them.”

“By re-breaking them.” Jaskier retorted, blue eyes flashing in panic for a second before turning steely in determination. “Call me a fool but as I’d like to avoid pain as long as I’m able to.”

Geralt frowned at that. “A small amount of pain is worth it if it saves your life.” Geralt recited the words Vesemir had used when training the Witcher recruits. He’d put the practice into use more than a few times in his lifetime. After all, what was a scratch of a blade or the bite of a creatures teeth into flesh compared with the certainty of death had he not let his opponent take that small victory.

“But unhealed ribs won’t kill me.” Jaskier replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No.” Geralt agreed. “But they will cause you pain. And make you slower and less agile in avoiding a hit that may kill you.” Jaskier seemed to consider those words for a moment, eyes twinkling in response.

“So you admit I’m not safe here.” There was a note of victory in Jaskier’s voice that broke Geralt’s heart. 

“No, you are more safe here than anywhere else in the world.” Geralt promised, seeing the frown and confusion flood Jaskier’s face once more. “No one here will hurt you. But you must always be prepared for the worst of eventualities.”

“That’s rather a bleak way of looking at things.” Jaskier said, voice quiet. Geralt just shrugged. It was how he was trained, how all Witchers were trained. To see the worst of the situation so as to never be surprised by things going wrong.

“Yennefer and Triss could help you.” Geralt grunted, hesitantly moving to sit next to Jaskier on the seat. Jaskier nodded, tears sparkling in his eyes before the omega roughly wiped them away.

“I suppose you think I’m a coward for being afraid of a little more pain.”

“No.” Geralt said, taking Jaskier’s hands in his own. “Being afraid isn’t cowardice, it’s the minds way of keeping the body alive.” Jaskier let out a small ‘huh’ noise as he looked down at his and Geralt’s interlaced fingers.

“Maybe…they wouldn’t mind?” Jaskier asked and Geralt shook his head in answer. “And…” Jaskier blushed, removing his hands from Geralt’s and wringing them in his lap for a moment. 

“It’s ok to admit you’re in pain.” Geralt murmured and Jaskier just smiled softly.

“That just means they know where to hit you to make it really hurt.” Jaskier whispered, words obviously not meant for Geralt. The silent admittance that Jaskier had told someone where he was hurting, only for them to take advantage of that when they beat him…fuck, no wonder Jaskier wouldn’t admit he was in pain.

“No one will hurt you here.” Geralt growled, taking Jaskier’s hands once more in hand and squeezing softly.

Jaskier looked at him with bright blue eyes for along moment before seeming to decide he could trust those words. Or at the very least Geralt. “My back.” Jaskier’s words were quiet, gaze fixed to the floor. “It always hurts in the cold but…”

“Yennefer and Triss will have something to ease the pain.” Geralt continued as Jaskier’s words trailed off. “I’m sorry they can’t heal the scars but they can ease the pain.” The look of hope and gratitude in Jaskier’s face tore Geralt’s heart in two. When was the last time Jaskier had ever been given hope of pain lessened? Given what Geralt knew had happened to the omega, he doubted never.

“But you came here for something, not to hear me moan about my ridiculous aches and pains.” Jaskier grinned, laughing softly even as his eyes showed the sadness he felt.

Geralt growled, keeping a firm grip on Jaskier’s hands so as to stop him pulling away. “You’re feelings are never ridiculous.” Geralt growled, voice filled with sincerity. “I’ll always listen to whatever you have to say.”

“You may regret that.” Jaskier chuckled wetly, tears building at the corners of his eyes at Geralt’s words.

“Here.” Geralt growled, lifting the lute case from his shoulders and passing it to Jaskier.

“What…” Jaskier’s voice trailed off, hands shaking as they ran over the leather.

“For you.” Geralt growled, eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment. “Ciri mentioned you wanted to be a bard and…I thought…”

………..

Jaskier stared at the lute case on his lap, heart hammering with joy. He gently opened the supple leather, noting the worn leather of the case. It had been well used over the years. He wondered how many adventures it had been on, what the old owner had done, seen, where they had been, what songs they had sung.

Gently lifting the wooden lute from the case, Jaskier’s hands instantly went into position. His long fingers began tuning the instrument, adjusting the pegs, plucking the strings. His hands would hurt after just tuning the instrument, calluses long since worn away. He wondered how long they would take to regrow, wondered if he still remembered how to play. Tuning the instrument had once been second nature to him and he was glad to see his hands still remembered what to do.

The lute was of a sturdy wood, the colour light with not a single notch or scratch or make upon the gleaming wooden surface. Whoever had owned this lute had taken good care of it. Jaskier promised himself he would take as much care of the instrument as the previous owner had. More so, if that were possible.

“I had a lute.” Jaskier started to speak, voice far away as he plucked an old tune he had first learnt on the lute, pausing every few moments to readjust the pegs to make the strings truly sing under his fingers. “My Mother bought it for me when I was 10, after I begged her for weeks to get me one. A bard had come to our home and sang the most beautiful songs, his music lit the world around him, even my Father had smiled and danced with Mother that evening. I wanted to bring joy to world like he had.” Jaskier smiled, remembering that night, the music, the dancing, the colours, the laughter. It had been a perfect night.

“She agreed, Father didn’t much care what I did so long as I attended my lessons. I taught myself how to play, not very well if I’m honest.” Jaskier laughed softly, tears stinging at his eyes as he played the strings, the music lighting across the library. “A bard stayed at our home the winter of my 12th year. Valdo Marx, he taught me how to use the lute properly. How to make the lute sing for me, to entrance the world around me with music and song and laughter.” Jaskier smiled softly, remembering the winter filled with music, his fingers growing calluses that had been left in their wake. “He said that when I was old enough I was to come to Oxenfurt and find him, that he’d take me under his wing, be his apprentice and he would teach me the way of the bard.”

Jaskier’s fingers stopped as the tears fell down his face, heart clenching at a life never to be. A life cruelly ripped from his just because of how he had presented. “It’s all I wanted.” Jaskier whispered, voice breaking on the words. “To play music, to have adventures, to see the world.” He turned blue eyes, bright with tears to look at Geralt, face pleading Geralt to explain the injustice of the world. “Was that so much to ask.”

Geralt placed a hand around Jaskier’s shoulder, not pulling or gripping, simply a reassuring weight on Jaskier’s shoulder. More love and affection he’d been given in years. Jaskier let his body lean into the embrace, let his side fall heavily against Geralt’s firm warm chest as the tears spilled down his cheeks.

“It’s not fair what they took from you.” Geralt growled, voice rough with anger. Not anger directed at Jaskier though, anger at those that had caused his pain. That very thought made Jaskier’s heart warm with affection for the gruff alpha. “But you can still have it all. You just have to take it.”

Jaskier didn’t think as he gently placed the lute and case back onto the ground before wrapping arms firmly around Geralt’s neck. Geralt stiffened, arms coming to tentatively wrap around Jaskier’s waist. Only wrap, never hold, never trap, simply a weight to help balance Jaskier as he hugged the Witcher.

“Thank you.” Jaskier breathed, breath tickling against Geralt’s neck. “Thank you for everything.”


	11. Chapter 11

Geralt could see Jaskier was uncomfortable, fuck he could feel it in the air. The omega’s scent had turned the sour scent of rotting flowers, shoulders growing tenser and tenser the longer Yennefer and Triss were in the room. Geralt was half tempted to kick them out so as to leave Jaskier in peace, but he knew they could help Jaskier from feeling constant pain. That was the only reason Geralt let them stay.

Right now Jaskier was sitting on the end of the bed, shirt off with his scars shown to the world. The vivid scars on his back had faded since he’d come to Kaer Morhen, no longer vivid and angry now faint pink marks. Faint pink marks that would soon turn white and join the other criss crossed deep white scars marring the omegas back. It made Geralt want to rip someone, specifically Vizimir and the bastards that had done this to Jaskier, apart.

When Geralt had first met Jaskier, the omegas ribs had been easily seen, now after weeks of good and regular food, Jaskier had fattened up. He was still thin, too think as far as Geralt was concerned, but Geralt could no longer see every ridge and shape of the omegas ribs. Ribs which weren’t all together straight, after healing wrong. But that would soon be remedied by the two sorceresses currently frowning, chaos surrounding their fingers as they probed over the injured ribs. Jaskier sat straight backed, tense with a pale, pained look on his face. He didn’t say a word of protest though throughout Yennefer and Triss’ ministrations. But Geralt knew that had nothing to do with putting a brave face on his pain, no Jaskier wasn’t voicing his pain because he’d learnt to hold it back. Another reason why Geralt was feeling particularly murderous and if not for the snow storm that had begun to rage outside Kaer Morhen and the face Jaskier needed him here, he’d be half way to Redania by now.

The only part of Jaskier’s healing body that didn’t look healed, that still looked as if Jaskier had only received it yesterday, was the mating mark. it was an angry red mark on Jaskier’s neck. The sight of it made Geralt fill with anger and possession. No one had a right to force their mark on an omega, especially not one as...as...fuck Jaskier. Jaskier didn’t deserve that mark. That angry red mark that just looked painful from sight. Geralt could only imagine what pain jaskier must be feeling from it.

“It will hurt.” Triss’ voice brought Geralt back from his inner thoughts, eyes glancing over where Triss now knelt in front of jaskier, grasping the omegas hands lightly in hers. She had a kind look in her brown eyes that had done wonders to alleviate some of the tension in Jaskier’s shoulders. The scent of wildflowers had returned to the room. Not as the full heady scent Geralt was used to but it no longer contained the rotting scent, a fact that had Geralt’s inner alpha purring in delight.

Yennefer glanced over at him, violet eyes gazing as if into his soul. She was standing at the corner as Triss dealt with Jaskier’s injuries. As good as she was with chaos, and more than capable of re-breaking and healing a few ribs, Triss had always been the more delicate hand at medicinal magic practices.

“How much?” Jaskier asked, voice quiet and Geralt could detect the slight waiver that the omega desperately tried to hide. 

Triss smiled softly, squeezing Jaskier’s hands before answering. “There’ll be a sharp shooting pain when it happens and you might have some trouble breathing.” 

jaskier let out a breathy ‘oh’, panic brimming behind his blue eyes as they darted around the room as if trying to find an escape.

“You can still say no.” Geralt reminded Jaskier, not wanting Jaskier to feel as if he were being forced into this. Jaskier offered him a timid smile that didn’t meet his eyes before shaking his head.

“It’ll help?” Jaskier added, voice still hesitant.

“Yes.” Triss promised. “We’ll re-break your ribs, bandage them up and with a little bit of chaos they’ll be all healed up within a week.” 

“And...and they won’t hurt anymore?” Jaskier asked, voice a little less hesitant despite the shake in his shoulders.

“We have some herbs that will help you deal with the pain while they heal. But after, you won’t feel a thing.” Yennefer stated, voice flippant but violet eyes calm. Jaskier nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before nodding his head again, blue eyes turning steely with determination.

“Lie down.” Triss motioned for Jaskier to lie flat on the bed, Jaskier doing so. Geralt hovered a little closer as Yennefer took Triss’ place at Jaskier side, taking the omegas hands in her own and squeezing softly.

Geralt wanted to take Jaskier’s other hand but Triss was standing there now and he didn’t want to be in the way. “Ready?” Triss asked, hands hovering over the injured ribs. Jaskier took a shaky breath in, chest rising unsteadily before nodding.

Geralt could feel the buzz of chaos in the room as Triss directed the magic onto Jaskier’s unhealed ribs. He heard the sharp crack of bones, the sharp in hale of breath, could taste the salt in the air of Jaskier’s tears. Then another crack, Jaskier letting out a small whimper, body shaking from the pain as another crack filled the air. And then it was done.

“Breath Jask, that’s it. Just breath.” Triss was saying, exaggerating her breaths as she helped Jaskier into a sitting position. Jaskier’s breaths were coming off in pained gulping gasps, chest moving up and down rapidly as the pain in his newly broken ribs caused stabbing sensations every breath he took.

Geralt didn’t even notice himself moving as he came to sit next to Jaskeir, placing a hand on the omega’s back. “Follow my breathing.” Geralt growled, heart warming despite the situation as Jaskier leant into Geralt’s side. His eyes were closed, scrunched up against the pain as tears flowed down his face but slowly Jaskier followed the exaggerated breaths Geralt was taking until they were once more even, if still shallow.

“Now we just need to bandage them.” Triss said, giving Geralt a pointed look. Geralt hummed, stepping away from the bed. He didn’t miss the slight whimper Jaskier gave off at the loss of contact, or how cold his right side now felt with Jaskier no longer leaning against it.

Yennefer was watching him with narrowed violet eyes as Triss turned to Jaskier. “Triss will finish up. I need to talk to you.” Yennefer’s voice brokered no argument but still Geralt hesitated.

He turned to look at Jaskier who gave him a hesitant smile. “I’ll be fine.” His voice was breathless, making Geralt’s heart stab in pain.

“I’ve got him Geralt.” Triss’ voice, quieter as she brought the bandages over to where Jaskier sat.

Geralt looked at Jaskier once more before nodding and following Yennefer out of the room.

.....

As the door closed behind Geralt, Jaskier felt his heart hammer more violently in his chest. His breaths turned once more panicked, only turning shallower and more panicky as the act made the pain in his ribs sing out. “Jaskier, you need to calm down. It’s ok, you’re safe.”

And Jaskier knew that but his body wouldn’t, didn’t believe it. How could it when all he could remember was the first time Vizimir had ever broken his ribs. He’d been with the man a few weeks, he hadn’t even done anything wrong. Vizimir had just been angry and when the King was angry, he took his anger out on the only person he could. Jaskier. 

Jaskier remembered that pain, the pain as Vizimir had kicked him brutally over and over again until he’d calmed down enough to stop. And he remembered the pain never leaving him. Not for weeks, months, fuck years afterwards. His ribs always aching, always painful as Vizimir and every other person in Redania uncaring of the fact they needed time to heal. Still hitting, punching, kicking his ribs after being broken. Leaving them to never heal correctly, to be re-broken most months after a fit of rage from Vizimir or a well aimed hit from one of his guards. He remembered the constant aching agonising pain in every inch of his body for 8 years. 8 years without a single respite from the pain, whether physical or mental.

“Jaskier, sweetheart. It’s ok. You’re ok.” Triss’ voice, soft and quiet as she ran her fingers through Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier’s head was lying on her lap, he couldn’t remember getting here. There were tears stains on Triss’ dress from where Jaskier had been sobbing into the material. “You’re safe.” Triss repeated for what Jaskier knew wasn’t the first, and probably wasn’t even the 10th time.

Jaskier let himself focus on the feeling of Triss’ fingers carding through his hair. There was a gentle soothing action to it that had the panic that had clawed at Jaskier’s throat finish until he was sitting up, hand coming to wrap around his aching ribs.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered, surprised to find his voice croaky.

“You don’t need to apologise.” Triss gave Jaskier a small smile, worry still clear in her face. “Can I touch?” Triss asked, voice hesitant as Jaskier gave a slow hesitant nod. The aching in his ribs was a harsh twinge with each breath, reading him of injuries that had left him unable to breath, injuries that had made him think he was going to die. He forced his mind away from those thoughts, opening eyes he didn’t remember closing to look into Triss’ worried face.

“It won’t hurt.” Triss promised but Jaskier didn’t believe her. It always hurt. Everything always hurt.

There was a faint buzz in the air around Triss’ hands, the same buzz that had surrounded her as she had broken Jaskier’s ribs. He unconsciously flinched away from the touch, expecting more pain to come from the touch. “I promise. I won’t hurt you.” Triss’ voice, soothing and full of a promise that Jaskier couldn’t believe. But he didn’t pull away as she settled her hand once more on his ribs.

A buzzing feeling filled him and Jaskier waited to hear a crack, waited for the gasping sharp pain as if he’d been impaled on a white hot poker. But instead, all he felt was a warm tingling feeling. He breathed a sigh of relief, surprised to find the breath came out with ease and very little pain.

Triss hummed, removing her hand and walking across the room to where she had left a pile of medical supplies on the cabinet. “It will still be painful.” Triss stated as she moved back to Jaskier with bandages and a pot filled with herbs. “I’ll make you a potion that will ease the pain, you’ll have to take it every morning and every night. And no running around, no heavy lifting or it’ll take longer to heal.”

Jaskier just nodded, staring at her dummy as she came to settle next to him. Triss just smiled, holding up the bandages in her hand. “Now, I need to wrap those ribs up.” And all Jaskier could do was just continue nodding, mind not fully believing that Triss had kept her promise. She hadn’t hurt him. She was helping him.

...........

Geralt heard Jaskier’s panicked breathing through the door and had his hand on the doorknob to go back in and comfort the panicked omega when he felt a hand connect with his shoulder. Yennefer. Geralt tried to shrug her off but Yennefer kept a grip as she growled, “Triss has it.”

“He needs me.” Geralt growled, mind not even thinking about what he’d jut said as panic clawed at his chest. Jaskier was in pain. His omega was in pain.

“Geralt. Enough.” Yennefer growled, a flash of chaos and Geralt was tumbling down the wall on the other side of the corridor. Yennefer stalked over to him, heels clicking on the ground as she stood above him, violet eyes blazing. “Triss will look after him.”

“I...Yennefer I need to...”

“You don’t need to do anything.” Yennefer interrupted him with a snarl, though her violet gaze had turned more soft as she continued speaking. “You don’t think I don’t know how you feel about Jaskier. You don’t think the whole keep knows.”

“How I feel?” Geralt asked, voice filled with confusion. The panicked gasping breaths had stopped and Geralt could faintly hear voices through the door now. His heart calmed a little at the knowledge Jaskier was no longer in pain. For now.

“Melitele save me from Witchers and there ignorance.” Yennefer breathed, staring up at the ceiling as if that would indeed help before turning violet eyes on Geralt. “You care about Jaskier.”

“We all do.” Geralt retorted and Yennefer rolled her eyes.

“Yes. But not as much as you.” Geralt went to protest but Yennefer shut him up with a glare. “No one else feels the need to spend every night outside his rooms, waiting to see if he needs comforting.” Geralt felt his face heat up at the knowledge that someone knew about his silent midnight vigil. He hadn’t needed to go into Jaskier’s rooms, not that he felt he had a right to but hearing Jaskier’s pained sobs breaking through the night as he fought his way out of a nightmare tore Geralt’s heart to shred.

“He had nightmares.” Geralt growled. “I...I don’t want him to be alone.” Jaskier didn’t deserve to be alone. He deserved someone to hold him tight, to comfort and protect him. He deserved someone to hold him as he cried over the lost period of his life.

“You care for him.” Yennefer’s voice was quiet and Geralt could feel his heart aching at the thought. He did, didn’t he? Every moment of every day since bringing Jaskier here had been filled with thoughts of the omega. How he was, if he was scared, tired or alone. If Jaskier had eaten that day, or who was bringing Jaskier food when Geralt was waylaid with business. The scent of wildflowers haunting every step Geralt took, his whole mind and body attuned to Jaskier’s every movement. Able to smell Jaskier wherever he was in the keep, able to tell when Jaskier was in pain or if he was relaxed or if he was upset. All of it. Fuck.

“I...fuck, I’m not going to hurt him.” Geralt looked at Yennefer with wild pleading eyes. He would never, could never hurt Jaskier. Jaskier who was perfect, who deserved the world. Jaskier who Geralt...who Geralt loved? Did he love the omega. He’d never loved, never truly loved anyone before. What he and Yennefer had had was a sort of love, the sort of burning fiery passion that had left them both heartbroken at the end. But this, what he felt for Jaskier. it took up his whole body, mind and soul. Every part of him aching with a need to be close to the omega, to see Jaskier smile, blue eyes lighting with joy and happiness as he looked at Geralt. To feel Jaskier tucked close at his side. 

“I never thought you would.” Yennefer said, placing a gentle hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “But Geralt, you can’t force this. Jaskier’s been through to much.”

“I wouldn’t.” Geralt interrupted, eyes wild as he looked at Yennefer. “Jaskier, he...fuck Yenn he deserves more than I could ever give him. I would never force him to stay here. Would never force him to be with me.”

I know.” Yennefer smiled, violet eyes no softer as she squeezed Geralt’s shoulder softly. “But I don’t want to see you hurt either and Jaskier isn’t in a fit state to give you what you need.”

“I don’t need anything.” Geralt growled, stalking past Yennefer.

.......

Yennefer didn’t say a word as Geralt walked back towards the door leading him to Jaskier. She knew what Geralt needed. It was the same thing all the Witchers in the keep needed. it was why she had never been a good fit for Geralt, because she craved what Geralt needed as much as Geralt himself. Two people devoid of love, of friendship and family could never love each other. No, what Geralt needed, what they all needed, not just Geralt and Yennefer but every Witcher in the keep, Ciri, Triss; they all needed love.

And Jaskier couldn’t give them it. Not when he himself needed it as well.

............

Jaskier felt the words stick heavy on his tongue as he gingerly pulled the shirt Triss had handed him on over the bandages. The bandages were tight and constricting but Triss had assured him they needed to be like that so as to keep his ribs stable while they healed. And Triss hadn’t lied to him. Throughout this whole process, she hadn’t lied. Despite how vulnerable Jaskier had been, despite how easy it would have been for her to hurt him, she never had. And a part of Jaskier could feel himself beginning to trust her. Which was why he had to ask? Why he had to know.

He’d been putting it off since arriving here. Fear and anxiety claiming most of his waking hours in those first few weeks and only now, so slowly so very very slowly beginning to dissipate. Which was why he needed to know. He needed to know now, before he became to comfortable. Before he was left heartbroken and confused as to why they’d lied to him. Because he wasn’t safe here. not in a keep full of alpha’s. Not when...not when they wouldn’t be able to control themselves around him.

“Triss...” Jaskier started, voice trailing off as his heart thudded against his chest. Triss looked at him, brown eyes filled with kindness. It was the sort of kindness one would expect from a big sister, a kindness Jaskier had never felt before, not even from his own mother. He felt tears pinprick at his eyes, Triss moving to wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him closer.

“What’s wrong Jaskier?” And Jaskier didn’t have to tell her. He could lie, say he was in pain or, or something. Anything but the truth that would leave everything they had all promised him, everything Geralt had promised him lying in tattered remains. But Jaskier needed to know. He needed to know what would happen.

“I...my...” Jaskier wiped at his arms, pulling away from Triss so there was a gap between them. “My heat, it’s...it’s due. In 2 months.” Jaskier didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. He knew what happened when an omega went into heat. He knew all to well what alphas did, how they lost control. He shivered at the memory.

“Jaskier.” Triss placed a gentle hand on Jaskier’s shoulder but Jaskier dodged the touch, standing up on shaking legs that jostled his ribs a little to fast and left his ext breath gasping aching.

“You don’t need to.” Jaskier said, trying for a smile but failing miserably. “I know what will happen. And I don’t blame them.” How many times had Vizimir blamed Jaskier when the omega went into heat early. When Jaskier hadn’t been locked in the Kings chambers, going into heat in a keep where every alpha was drawn into the scent, where every alpha went mad and wild in rut and descended on the poor heat riddled omega as the scent drove them to insanity. He’d paid the price for each and every time he didn’t make it to the King. Paid the price by a brutal beating, and then another brutal beating a month later when the King found out he was pregnant with someone else’s child.

“What will happen?” Geralt, voice low and barely containing a growl. Jaskier hadn’t even noticed him enter the room. his eyes looked over Geralt and Yennefer frantically, heart thudding in his chest. “Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice, still continuing the growl but amber eyes filled with kindness and calmness. And Jaskier couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take the knowledge of what he’d make Geralt do to him, Geralt who was sweet and kind and caring, who had shown Jaskier nothing but love. Geralt would hate himself for what Jaskier’s body would make him do.

Strong arms wrapped around Jaskier’s body, the scent of oak filling Jaskier as he wrapped his hands in Geralt’s black shirt, sobbing pitifully. What must they think of him? t was his fault after all. He wouldn’t blame them if they cast him out. He’d probably die in the forest before he got anywhere near civilisation but at least the Witchers wouldn’t have to lose there selves to a rut caused by an omegas heat. At least Jaskier wouldn’t have to be blamed for making the Witchers rape him.

“Jaskier, what do you think will happen?” Geralt’s voice, soft but determined as he ran circles on Jaskier’s back. And Jaskier hated that he found comfort in that touch.

“An...an omegas heat...”. Jaskier hiccuped, voice muffled from where it was still buried in Geralt’s shirt. “It...it makes alphas go into rut and...and...”. jaskier sobbed, voice breaking as he was unable to say the words, unable to confirm what he’d made those alpha’s in Redania do to him. 

“You think we’d hurt you?” Geralt’s voice incredulous, his grip tightening around Jaskier as if the very thought of it made him want to hold Jaskier and hide him away from the world. Jaskier let himself melt into the touch, tears still falling despite how suddenly safe and secure he felt in Geralt’s arms.

“It’s...it wouldn’t be you’re fault.” Jaskier whispered. “It’s mine.”

“No.” Yennefer snarled. Jaskier didn’t need to lift his head from Geralt’s chest to see her violet eyes sparkle with anger. “Did they say that?” Jaskier didn’t answer, Geralt’s hold tightening as Jaskier shivered from the anger so clear in Yennefer’s tone. “Is that how they justified it?” The sound of heels stalking across the floor filled Jaskier’s hearing. Geralt was tense, arms still tight around Jaskier, a low growl filling the alpha’s chest.

“Listen to me.” Geralt, voice low as he pulled Jaskier back so Jaskier was forced to look into Geralt’s blazing amber eyes. “I promised you, no one will hurt you here. No one will hurt you anywhere. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.” Jaskier whispered, voice filled with the pain and agony his heart felt. 

“I can.” Geralt growled and Jaskier wanted to believe him with every bone in his body, but he couldn’t. The mating mark on his chest burned fiercely as if to remind Jaskier of what his heat did to alphas. His first heat with Vizimir flashing through his mind, of how he’d been half delirious from fever and blood loss after those 3 days, chest a blazing ball of fire.

“Jaskier, no alpha has any right to touch you, to touch any omega. Especially during their heat.” Triss’ voice, filled with a sincerity Jaskier wanted to believe but couldn’t because he knew better.

“They can’t control themselves.” Jaskier whispered, Geralt pulling Jaskier closer into he warm encircle of his arms.

“Then the alpha’s you’ve met are nothing but pig headed, undisciplined fools with no respect for anyone outside of the tiny pathetic cocks.” Yennefer’s voice was so filled with venom Jaskier had the sudden thought that Yennefer could have killed the alpha’s that had hurt Jaskier with just those words.

“And regardless of all of that.” Geralt, pulling Jaskier to look into amber eyes once more. “Witchers don’t have ruts. A side effect of the trials that made us Witchers. We can’t have children, we can’t go into a rut.”

Jaskier’s heart hammered against his chest, blinking back tears Jaskier tried to see the lie in Geralt’s words but he couldn’t. All he could see was the open honest expression crossing Geralt’s face. “And even if we did. I would die before I let anyone so much as touch you.”

Jaskier collapsed into Geralt’s chest, tears running down his face as his mind tried to accept the open honesty of Geralt’s words. Because Geralt was telling the truth. Geralt wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Geralt would protect him. 

And if that didn’t do funny things to Jaskier’s heart, nothing else did.


	12. Chapter 12

“I’ll stay with him.” Geralt growled, looking at where Jaskier was sitting forlornly looking at the floor sat on the edge of the bed. Yennefer raised an eyebrow but Geralt ignored her, his mind still running over the conversation they’d had before Jaskier’s breakdown. Fuck, Jaskier had thought they were going to rape him.

Triss nodded, eyes glancing at Jaskier with a worried expression flooding her face. “If you need anything, get us.” Geralt grunted, waiting for the two sorceresses to leave, the door licking shut behind them before turning to Jaskier.

Jaskier didn’t move, body tense and tears still dripping down his face onto the floor. Fuck. Geralt had known Jaskier had been raped, had been abused and lost his children but to now know Jaskier blamed himself for it. Fuck, it was wrong. It was so so wrong.

“You don’t have to stay.” jaskier whispered, voice cracking on the words as emotion clogged his throat. “I’ll be ok.” 

Geralt didn’t say a word, just moved to sit himself next to Jaskier. Jaskier moved almost subconsciously, shoulder pressing against Geralt’s own. Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder, pulling him close, the scent of wildflowers on a rainy day filling him. He was fucked, he was well and truly fucked.

“Do you want me to go?” Geralt hummed, heart hammering in his chest as he waited for Jaskier to ask him to leave. He wouldn’t protest, despite how much it would break Geralt’s heart to leave Jaskier like this. But Jaskier just shook his head, body leaning further into Geralt in response.

Geralt just stroked a hand across Jaskier’s shoulders, head dropping to Jaskier’s hair. It smelt of the lavender shampoo Yennefer had given Jaskier used to wash it. It felt right, having Jaskier wrapped in Geralt’s arms. The omega fit like a missing puzzle piece into Geralt’s side. his scent mixing with Geralt’s own, making Geralt feel more relaxed that he had in...fuck ever. it felt like he was home. Fuck, Geralt was fucked wasn’t he. Well and truly fucked.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered after a few moments of silence. “For thinking you would...”. Jaskier trailed off, unable to say the words that had Geralt’s heart clenching. Fuck, Jaskier thought he was going to rape him. Is that what Jaskier felt when he was wrapped in Geralt’s arms. He sniffed the air, expecting to taste the sorry tang of fear crawling from Jaskier, but all he smelt was wildflowers. If he concentrated very well, he could smell the individual flowers that made up Jaskier’s scent: dandelions and buttercups, primroses, fresh grass, the sun shining on a warm funny day. Fuck.

“You had good reason to.” Geralt replied, arms tightening on instinct around Jaskier at the very thought of what Jaskier had gone through.

“It...it was worse when my heats came early.” Jaskier whispered, voice breaking in the quiet of the room as tears started to once more flow down his face. Geralt didn’t say a word, only pulling Jaskier closer into his side so Jaskier was burying his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck. He was so close to Geralt’s scent mark that a primal part of Geralt wanting Jaskier to bite down, to claim the alpha as his own. But no, fuck Jaskier wasn’t his. Jaskier was his own person. Jaskier would never be Geralt’s.

“After the first heat with Vizimir...I...I got used to him.” Geralt hated those words. Hated that Jaskier had gotten used to Vizimir raping him. Hated that he’d had to get used to it.

“With the others...they...it was like they were half crazed.” Jaskier whispered, voice breaking on a sob as his whole body shook. “And Vizimir...he was always so mad after.” Geralt felt his heart break as he ran comforting circles over Jaskier’s arm and back and shoulders. “And when I got pregnant...”

“You got pregnant.” Geralt hadn’t meant to interrupt but he couldn’t help himself. The words coming out of their own accord. Jaskier shrank closer into Geralt’s side as if he could hide himself away in Geralt’s arms. A shaking hand came to rest on Jaskier’s belly, the place where children had grown. Children that had never had a chance to live.

“I...I can only get pregnant during my heats.” Jaskier’s voice was small, tears flowing down his cheek and soaking Geralt’s chest. “Vizimir...he...when my heats were due he’d tie me to a bed...and he’d...”. Jaskier trailed off, a sob breaking his body, making Geralt’s heart break in response. “It was hard...I don’t remember a lot of it but...he locked me in there...wouldn’t let anyone in but himself...and, he left me tied to the bed for the whole of my heat, rutting me, trying to get me...to get me pregnant.”

Geralt growled, low and angry as he pulled Jaskier closer to him so Jaskier was nearly curled on his lap, head resting on Geralt’s chest. Jaskier let him, body curling tight into Geralt’s arms as he continued to cry.

“When my heats came early...when he didn’t have time to tie me down...it...they, the alphas in the court...they passed me round...wherever I was when it hit, the corridor, my room, the library, the gardens...it didn’t fucking matter. It didn’t fucking matter.” Jaskier sobbed. “They do it right there, mad with lust and rage and when they were done...they’d just leave me...ready for the next one. And afterwards Vizimir, he’d...he’d beat me. Have me whipped for letting another alpha take me. As if I had a fucking choice.” Jaskier sobbed brokenly, hands clutching at Geralt’s chest desperately.

“And if I got pregnant, he’d...he’d...”. Jaskier sobbed, hands wrapping around his stomachs were a phantom baby had grown. “Those miscarriages were the worse. When he’d make sure they happened. He told me once that he didn’t care if it killed me. Better a dead brood mare than a fucking bastard at court.” Jaskier sobbed again and Geralt didn’t know what to do with the weight of that knowledge.

He pulled Jaskier with him as he settled himself onto the headboard of the bed. Jaskier went, curled tightly into Geralt’s chest as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, hand shaking were it cradled a belly that had lost child after child after child. Fuck. Geralt had always thought the trials to become a Witcher were the worst pain anyone could feel but this...the pain that flew from jaskier in waves and waves made Geralt sick to his stomach.

“I’d kill them all.” Geralt growled into Jaskier’s hair. “I’ll kill them all for what you did.”

“No.” Jaskier’s voice of protest made Geralt’s anger freeze. Blue eyes turned stormy grey with tears looked at Geralt with more determination that Geralt thought the grieving abused omega could feel. “You’re not like them. You’re good, all of you. You saved me. Don’t turn into them because of me.” And what could Geralt do in the face of such blatant pleas from the omega that had so effectively and unknowingly captured his heart, except nod his head and hold Jaskier tighter to his chest.

“Does it still hurt?” Geralt whispered into Jaskier hair, seeing the way Jaskier was subconsciously rubbing at the mating mark.

“Always.” jaskier whispered into Geralt’s chest and Geralt felt anger flood him.

“Yennefer and Triss said they could get rid of it.” Geralt growled, feeling Jaskier’s heart race where the omegas chest was lying on top of Geralt’s. Jaskier looked at him with blue eyes filled with disbelief, as if he expected it to be a cruel joke Geralt was going to rip away from him.

“It’s dangerous, they said it would be painful and...there’s a chance you might not survive.”

“I don’t care.” The viciousness in Jaskier’s voice took Geralt aback, as did the brightness in Jaskier’s eyes as he stared at Geralt. “I don’t want to belong to him anymore. If they can get rid of it, I don’t care what the cost is.” The silent, I don’t care if I die echoed through Geralt’s head, making his heart ache with pain. But Jaskier’s eyes were pleading with Geralt to understand, a desperation there that reminded Geralt of a caged and cornered animal, willing to do anything to gain it’s freedom. 

“I can’t live like this anymore.” Jaskier whispered and Geralt felt his heart ache for the pain in the omegas voice.

“I know.” Geralt whispered, knowing deep in his soul that Jaskier’s words were the truth. At his words, something changed in Jaskier’s eyes, a twinkle seemed to appear in those bright blue eyes. A twinkle of hope.

“Can you stay?” Jaskier whispered, eyes bright and face still wet from tears that had fallen. “I...I’m afraid to sleep.” Jaskier admitted.

Geralt tightened his grip around Jaskier, heart tightening as he placed a kiss on Jaskier’s head. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

And as he held Jaskier in his arms as the omega slowly fell to sleep, Geralt knew how badly he’d fallen. And worst of all, Geralt knew that everything he felt would never be reciprocated. Not in a million years. After all, Jaskier deserved love, happiness, stability. He deserved a family, deserved to be pregnant and glowing, deserved to hold a tiny baby in his arms, deserved to raise his child, no his children. Jaskier deserved the world.

And Geralt could never give him any of that. So Geralt was fucked. Well and truly fucked.


	13. Chapter 13

“Please. No, please!” Jaskier screamed as hands tied him down to a large metal table, legs hanging on stirrups. “Please.” He sobbed, fighting against the ropes wrapped tightly around his wrists to keep him tied to the table. his wrists screamed in agony but he didn’t care. He couldn’t be here, they couldn’t do this. They couldn’t.

“Gag him.” Vizimir, his voice filled with anger. Jaskier struggled even more as a leather gag was forced between his teeth, tears running down his face as he sobbed brokenly into the gag. A punch across his face, causing blood to dribble down his nose shut Jaskier up for a moment as his head rang dizzily.

When he came to a little, the court physician was poking at his entrance with his fingers. Jaskier sobbed against the gag but no one paid any heed. “Can you get rid of it?” Vizimir, voice angry as he glared with cold black eyes at his omega. Jaskier sobbed again. 

“Yes.” The court physician, an old white haired man that had been treating Jaskier for injuries since he’d arrived at Redania 3 years ago. Jaskier sobbed again, heart breaking as he renewed his struggling against the bonds. They couldn’t do this.

“You’’ve already earned yourself 100 lashes for letting those alphas touch you, don’t make me add another 50 on top.” Vizimir growled, grabbing a fistful of Jaskier’s hair and using it to bang his head against the table. Jaskier just sobbed. It hadn’t been fault, he hadn’t even know his heat could come early. Fuck, he’d tried to stop them but he couldn’t. All he could do was lie there and take it.

The rest of the conversation between the physician and Vizimir filtered away from Jaskier as he sobbed brokenly. His hands pulled against the restraints, desperation to run, to get away, to save his baby running through him. They couldn’t do this to him. Wasn’t it bad enough they caused his miscarriages unknowingly but to force him to miscarry, to force him to lose his baby. Jaskier sobbed again, heart breaking in two. 

And then the court physician motioned for someone to hold Jaskier’s head. Two thick pairs of hands held his head down, undoing the gag and forcing his mouth open. He struggling, snarling at them and trying to get away but the grip was to strong, forcing his mouth to remain open as the physician brought a small bottle over. The contents was poured down his throat, a vile thick substance that made Jaskier gag, trying to throw it up. 

And then a hand covered his mouth and Mose, cutting off his air supply. Jaskier bucked, eyes wildly running over the occupants in the room as he tried not to swallow the disgusting liquid even as his lungs screamed for air. “Swallow it down or suffocate, omega. I don’t care which.” Vizimir, voice cold and emotionless. jaskier felt tears burn down his face. 

What would it matter if he died, he was nothing. Nothing but a brood mare for a cruel man. A cruel man that blamed Jaskier for getting pregnant from being held down and raped by the alphas of the court. 

Except his body apparently had more self preservation than his mind as he subconsciously swallowed down the liquid, choking on the vile substance. The hands around his mouth and nose disappeared and Jaskier took loud gasping desperate breathes. And then he realised what he’d done.

His stomach rolled and Jaskier hoped if he was sick now the potion wouldn’t have time to work. As if sensing his words, the King spoke: “Vomit it up and I will give you to my guards to use until you break.” The guard closest to Jaskier laughed, slapping Jaskier’s bared stomach so hard Jaskier almost did vomit, but he forced himself to keep it down.

Vizimir nodded as Jaskier sobbed. And then the room was empty, leaving jaskier in the dark, still tied down as he sobbed and cried for his baby.

The next few hours left Jaskier in enough pain to believe he was dying. His abdomen and stomach cramping painfully as he screamed and sobbed brokenly until his voice was so hoarse he could barely croak out of a pain filled scream of despair as something bloody fell away from him. 

As blood stained his thighs Jaskier collapsed onto the table, crying and crying until there were no tears left. Until he was just lying there, limp and dumb and heartbroken as someone entered the room.

Hands grabbed him, untying him and forcing him onto legs that collapsed as soon as he hit the floor. The hands growled, grabbing a fistful of his collar and jerking him madingly. Jaskier was dimly aware of choking as he was dragged out of the room and through corridors, blood still dripping down his thighs.

He was tied to the whipping post, barely aware of the world around him as the loss tore through him. “150 lashes.” A voice said, Jaskier faintly remembering Vizimir had only ordered 100 but then why did it matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Jaskier wasn’t a person, he was just a thing. A thing to be used and broken on the whim of a mad man.

The first lash fell like fire over his shoulders and the throat Jaskier thought to hoarse to scream screamed in agonising pain that echoed through the courtyard.

........

jaskier thrashed in Geralt’s arms, shouts and sobs breaking Geralt from the sleep he’d fallen into listening to Jaskier’s soft breathing. Cursing, Geralt wrapped arms around Jaskier, gently rocking the omega as Jaskier struggled and cried in grief. “Jaskier, fuck. It’s just a dream. Wake up.”

Geralt growled, rubbing hands over Jaskier’s back as Jaskier’s breath tore into whimpered pain filled gasps. jaskier curled into Geralt’s chest, no longer struggling to get away but seeming to crawl into Geralt as if he could hide away from whatever had caused the pain filling him.

jaskier sobbed brokenly, a keen so filled with despair and heartbreak it ripped Geralt’s heart into shred as Geralt wrapped his arms more securely around Jaskier. The omega in his arms curled into Geralt’s chest, sobbing painfully into Geralt’s chemise, his whole body shaking in Geralt’s grip.

“It was just a dream.” Geralt murmured, running a hand through Jaskier’s soft brown hair, fear clutching his heart as he frantically thought what to do.

“No it wasn’t.” jaskier sobbed, blue eyes lifting to meet Geralt’s. Jaskier’s eyes glistened with tears, face red and pain and sorrow written across his face. “Why did they do it?” jaskier whimpered, body shaking in Geralt’s hold. “How could they?”

Geralt didn’t know what Jaskier was talking about but he knew it didn’t really matter what Jaskier meant. The answer was still the same. “I don’t know.” Geralt said, bending his head to bury his face in Jaskier’s soft brown hair. Jaskier sobbed, body wracking with the power of those sobs. “I don’t know.”

..........

Jaskier didn’t know how long he lay there crying into Geralt’s arms, pain and despair and sorrow and heartache flooding over him as if he was back in that room, back there tied helpless as they ripped his child from him. Geralt’s arms never once moved, warm and strong, creating a barrier between Jaskier and the rest of the world as his grief rocked through him.

Eventually though, the despair fell away and replaced the bone deep acceptance of what had happened. An acceptance that left Jaskier’s heart feeling as cold and barren as it had following his first miscarriage. There was nothing he could do. They’d taken his children, all his children. And as much as it hurt, as much as it killed him to even think about the lives they could have had if given half a chance; there was nothing he could do.

Jaskier kept his face buried in Geralt’s chest, breathing in the scent of oak. it was like a forest on an autumn evening. There was a slight scent of horse there, and onion. Jaskier let the scents of the alpha holding him, protecting him rush over him. As he let Geralt wash over him, Jaskier felt a calmness fill him, healing up the cracks for the time being. The cracks never healed fully, just painted over waiting for the tiniest knock or memory to re-open them once more.

A hand ran up and down Jaskier’s back, an action it had been doing for some time now Jaskier distantly realised. It was comforting. Geralt’s arms wrapped around him, not pinning or holding him down, simply offering comfort; it was nice. Jaskier felt safe here. Safe and protected in a way he never thought possible, least of all in the embrace of an alpha.

“I lost everything.” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s hand paused in it’s gentle stroking of Jaskier’s back, Geralt stilling for a moment before continuing his gentle comforting of Jaskier.

“You didn’t lose yourself.” Geralt murmured.

..........

Jaskier didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Instead he stayed huddled into Geralt’s chest, mulling over Geralt’s words. Every time he felt the familiar reaching of sleep calling to him he pushed them aside, huddling closer into Geralt’s chest. Geralt for his part didn’t say a word, only tightened his hold around Jaskier and gently ran fingers through his hair.

You didn’t lose yourself, those words rang through Jaskier’s mind as he tried to understand what Geralt meant. Himself? What was himself? Did he even know? 

When he’d been a child, he’d been Julian. A mischievous little boy always looking for trouble and running the women his parents hired to watch him ragged. Before he’d presented he’d been Jaskier, heart singing with a song and a need for adventure. And then he’d presented and he’d...he’d still been Jaskier. He’d still been the headstrong boy who’d longed for adventure and a different life but... He’d also been resigned, resigned to his fate no matter how hard he pushed against his parents choices of mates to settle down with. He was an omega after all and omegas didn’t get far in life without a mate.

And then he’d met Redania, been chosen by Vizimir and his life had gone. He wasn’t his own person there, he’d been a thing to be used, a thing to breed full. Nothing but a thing for Vizimir’s twisted entertainment. Except throughout all of that Jaskier had still clung to himself. It hadn’t always been easy, as the years wore down he’d found himself bottling up the part of himself that had always strained against rules and expectations, the fear of punishment filling him to the point he had become subservient to Vizimir and the other nobles. 

And yet there had still be fight in him. The times Jaskier had fought and struggled against the hands that held him down. The times Jaskier had bitten nobles trying to force their cocks down his throat despite the vicious beating it earned him. It hadn’t been often, the fight draining out of him as the years and punishments flew by...but it hadn’t left.

And then Geralt and the Witchers had come. They were showing him it was possible to free. Possible to be safe to be himself here. So maybe Geralt was right, he hadn’t lost himself. His true self was buried deep under years of trauma and fear but he was still there. Somewhere, deep inside himself.

Maybe one day he could be that person again.

...........

“I can bring breakfast up here for you.” Geralt grunted as he watched Jaskier’s hands shake trying to fasten the dark green doublet. They’d stayed in bed, Jaskier wrapped in Geralt’s arms all night. neither slept, Jaskier on edge from his nightmare, or rather memory, and Geralt refusing to sleep lest Jaskier need him. Unlike Jaskier though, he could spend days without sleeping, the evidence barely noticeable. But right now Jaskier had heavy bags under his eyes, blue eyes red from crying for hours into the night.

Geralt still didn’t know what had caused those pain desperate sobs from Jaskier and a part of him never wanted to find out.

“I know.” Jaskier said, voice hoarse from the hours spent crying into Geralt’s shirt. Geralt just grunted. He’d gone to his rooms to grab a spare shirt and to give Jaskier privacy to clean himself up.

Glancing past Jaskier, Geralt noted the dwindling pile of fire wood. “I’ll send someone down to get firewood for you.” Geralt growled as Jaskier’s shaking hands finally managed to fasten the buttons of his doublet.

“I can.” Jaskier protested but Geralt cut him off.

“No. You’re ribs are still healing.” And Geralt didn’t want Jaskier carting heavy logs up the steep steps of Kaer Morhen, though he didn’t say that in fear Jaskier would take it the wrong way.

“After they’re healed then.” Jaskier said, determination in his blue eyes, despite the effect being ruined by the black bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders slumped forwards in exhaustion. Geralt just grunted. “So breakfast.” Jaskier tried for a smile but it didn’t meet his blue eyes.

“Jaskier, you don’t have to push yourself.” Geralt’s voice was quiet as he hesitantly took Jaskier’s shaking hands in his own.

Jaskier looked up at him, tears starting to glisten in them once more but Jaskier blinked them back. “I need to start living my life. I can’t let him take anything else from me.” And Geralt couldn’t argue with that statement so he let Jaskier push past him to the door.

................

Jaskier knew Geralt was right, he didn’t have to push himself and he was. He was exhausted. His whole body ached from the pain in his ribs despite the potion Geralt had given him before leaving to get new clothes. He was emotionally and physically drained and a very large part of him wanted to go back to bed and curl under the warm furs and just cry. But that would mean letting Vizimir win, letting them all win, and Jaskier wanted, no he needed his life back. He needed to be himself.

You didn’t lose yourself, echoed through Jaskier’s mind as he forced his protesting legs to keep walking down the steep stone steps despite the tremble that had appeared there. One of his tutors from when he was a boy had once called him a stubborn son of a bitch, a statement that had followed most of Jaskier’s life even to Redania. He wanted to live his life and he didn’t care that his body wasn’t up to the exertion of walking down a few stairs, he would do it. And he’d gain at least a little part of himself back by doing it.

As he stepped onto the ground floor hallway, his breaths were coming in pained gasps, hands coming to wrap around his aching ribs. A hand appeared on his waist, steadying him and offering silent strength. Jaskier let himself lean into it for just a moment before pushing away and sauntering down the corridor, hoping his steps appeared more confident than he actually felt.

The sound of clanging steel echoing down the corridor leading to the great hall had Jaskier’s footsteps slowing before he came to a stop, heart hammering in his chest. The scent of Adrenalin fuelled alphas flooded his senses, making fear clutch at him.

“Weather’s bad so their training inside today.” Geralt hummed from behind him, no judgement in his voice as a gentle hand settled on Jaskier’s lower back. “We can have breakfast in the kitchen if it’s easier?” 

jaskier shocked his head, forcing the fear aside. He was safe, he reminded himself as he took a purposeful step in the direction of the great hall. He was safe here.

Walking into the great hall, Jaskier’s resolve very nearly crumbled. There were well over a hundred Witchers crowding around the walls, the tables having been pushed right back to allow for a large space to form in the great hall floor. Witchers in various states of undress, most with no shirts on leaving their bared steely torso’s bared to the world shouted and cheered as a few groups of Witchers in the middle danced with swords in their hand. And it was a dance, the intricate footwork was nothing short of a dance, a deadly dance in truth between the two sparring Witchers as their swords clanging together echoed across the hall.

Geralt’s hand rested on his back, remaining him he was there and offering Jaskier the strength to keep walking. He picked his route carefully along the sides of the Witchers, the Witchers parting easily before him, though Jaskier didn’t know the deadly glare on Geralt’s face was what had each Witcher moving to get out of the omegas way.

“Jaskier!” Ciri shouted with delight, running over and grabbing one of Jaskier’s hands. Jaskier let some of the fear flooding him evaporate as he let Ciri drag him the rest of the length of the hall to where Triss and Yennefer stood. Triss greeted him with a bright smile that Jaskier tentatively returned, Yennefer nodding her greeting.

Ciri hopped onto the table, grinning as Letho and Aukes walked into the middle of the great hall. Their swords were nearly as large as they were and they flung them around with a killer accuracy that made Jaskier’s heart pound painfully in his chest.

“Eat.” Yennefer said, handing him a plate with bread and cheese on it. Jaskier nodded, not trusting his voice to speak as he began to pick at the food. It felt heavy on his stomach, tasteless in his mouth. He felt compressed, hemmed in. The stink of alpha in the room great enough for Jaskier to feel the undeniable need to run, to get somewhere safe, anywhere.

An arm bumping against his shoulder had Jaskier looking up. Geralt looked at him with concern filled amber eyes, offering Jaskier a small smile that jaskier hesitantly returned as he turned back to the room. 

He was safe. Geralt was here, Geralt would keep him safe.

...........

Jaskier was almost finished his plate of food when Lambert shouted over for Geralt to join in. jaskier felt his heart pound at the thought of Geralt leaving him but he forced aside those thoughts. Geralt was his own person, he didn’t need an overly clingy omega holding onto him at all times.

“Geralt’s the best.” Ciri said with all the confidence of someone who had seen Geralt in action, grabbing hold of Jaskier’s hand excitedly as Geralt followed Lambert over to the centre of the room.

Eskel was stood in the centre, sword in hand and a grin on his scarred face. Geralt turned back to look at Jaskier for a moment, amber eyes warm before he turned back to face Eskel. Jaskier could feel his heart hammering in his chest now for a whole other reason than fear as he watched the way Geralt’s muscles ripple. Both Geralt and Eskel were shirtless, their steel-like torso’s shown to the world but it wasn’t Eskel Jaskier was looking at.

Geralt moved with all the grace of a dancer, of a tiger stalking its prey in the wild. he was fast, fast and agile. He danced through the movements, Eskel struggling to keep up as their swords clashed and clanged against each other’s. Jaskier watched with awe as the two fought, Geralt dancing and darting around Eskel’s blade before he disarmed the scarred Witcher and brought the sword to Eskel’s throat with a grin of victory.

Ciri cheered next to Jaskier and Jaskier couldn’t help clapping as well, heart soaring as Geralt turned to look at him with a pleased smile on his face. “You two smell god together you know.” Ciri said conversationally as Eskel and Geralt walked away from the centre and Lambert and Aidan took their place.

jaskier startled, looking at Ciri who was grinning madly. “What?” Jaskier forced himself to ask, heart stuttering in his chest.

“Like a forest clearing.” Ciri said, obviously not realising the impact of her words as Jaskier’s gaze moved to look at where Geralt was standing across the room, amber eyes gazing at jaskier. “It’s nice.”

“I...I...I need to go.” Jaskier stuttered, heart hammering in his chest as he suddenly felt the overwhelming need to leave. Ciri tried to say something but Jaskier wasn’t listening, panic clawing at his throat as his feet carried him away from the room.

He couldn’t be here. He needed to get away.


	14. Chapter 14

Jaskier’s feet carried him back to his rooms, tears falling down his face as his hands shook, breathes coming in pained gasps. Fuck, no. Fuck. Ciri’s words rang through his head and Jaskier’s heart ached at those words. He and Geralt’s scents mingled, they mingled and they smelt nice. Like a forest. Like a clearing in the forest. The oaky scent of tress, coupled with wildflowers growing at the base of those trees. Scents which belonged together. And no, no, no…

Jaskier moved of his own accord, trembling hands picking up the lute case. Geralt smelt of autumn, of the calmness in a forest before winter took hold. He smelt of his horse, of adventure and heartache. Geralt smelt of someone who had lived a full life. A happy, loved life. Geralt was…Geralt deserved so much better than Jaskier. He deserved happiness, love. Not someone who was broken beyond repair. Jaskier didn’t deserve Geralt.

Tears ran down Jaskier’s face as his heart felt torn wide open. Geralt, Jaskier had come to rely on the white haired Witcher so much in his stay here. He trusted Geralt, trusted Geralt enough to hold him close when he was upset, to protect him, to keep him safe. He…he…no, no, he couldn’t. He couldn’t think that thought, not when all that that thought would lead was heartache and ruin, his ruin. 

Geralt deserved better.

Jaskier looked over the room, looked at the bed he’d slept in. Slept in with Geralt. If he closed his eyes he could pinpoint the scent of oak in the air, could almost feel Geralt’s arms wrapped solid and warm and comforting around him. Geralt’s arms fit perfectly around him, comforted and protected him in a way no one else had ever been able to do.

Jaskier’s mating bond ached and burnt, making tears of pain sting at Jaskier’s face. He was soiled. Used. Taken. Jaskier wasn’t Geralt’s, fuck he wasn’t even his own. The mating mark showed the whole world who he belonged to, reminded Jaskier with every aching burning pain it shot through him. The scent of Vizimir filled him, a horrid scent of ale and burning. Sour and filled with hatred and anger. 

Jaskier shivered. 

His legs carried him from the room, the room that smelled so very much of Geralt. He didn’t know where he was going, just knew he had t get away. He couldn’t be here. He needed a place to hide, to calm his racing heart down. Geralt…fuck, all Jaskier could think of was those bright amber eyes, filled with compassion and love. All he could feel was protective warm strong arms around him, offering him comfort he so desperately needed.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. But then, when had his life ever been fair.

Jaskier climbed a set of stairs, vision blinded by tears as his mind raced. The mating mark was a scar on his soul. One he now realised would never leave him, even if Yennefer and Triss could get rid of the mark. It was a part of him, a taint on his soul. Leaving a dark mark there, a constant reminder of the man that had given it to him. His heart ached with the knowledge that he’d never be free. He’d never be free of any of it. It would always be there, colouring his days with darkness, a constant reminder of everything that he’d lost, everything that had been done to him.

And how could Geralt care for someone like that, someone so scarred and tainted by his past. Jaskier’s memories would never leave him, his scars would never leave him. No matter how he fought to gain his life back, his freedom back, there would always be a part of himself locked away in the hell his life had been for 8 years. Always.

Jaskier opened a door, gasping for breath and ribs aching as he looked around. The room was deserted, filled with dust and without even a single piece of furniture in it. A window looked out onto the raging snow storm outside and Jaskier shivered, wishing he’d thought to bring a cloak or blanket. But it didn’t matter now, nothing did except the bone deep pain in his heart.

His legs gave out, Jaskier collapsing against the cold stone wall, tears dripping down his face. His hands took out the lute from it’s case without thinking. They stopped shaking as he tuned the lute in his arms, heart still hammering painful in his chest.

Hi fingers moved over the strings, a haunting heartbroken melody filling the room as tears continued down Jaskier’s face. He had no one. He was no one. And how could anyone love someone like that.

……………..

Geralt felt his heart tear in two as he saw Jaskier all but run from the great hall. He could smell the distress clearly on the omega, saw the pain colouring Ciri’s face as she watched Jaskier flee. Geralt crossed the room, Eskel close behind him as he came to where Jaskier had been standing.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Triss’ voice, wrapping an arm around Ciri as she looked at where Jaskier had run from. 

“What happened?” Geralt asked, heart aching in his chest as the need to follow Jaskier overtook him.

“Don’t.” Yennefer, a warning in her gaze as she placed a hand on top of Geralt’s shoulder. “He needs to be alone.”

“What happened?” Geralt repeated, needing to know what had upset Jaskier so much.

“I said you smell nice together.” Ciri’s voice breaking through to Geralt and leaving Geralt floored. 

“What?” Geralt murmured, turning to Ciri. Her emerald eyes glistened with tears and Geralt instantly wrapped his arms around his child surprise in comfort.

“You smell nice. Both of you, like a forest clearing.” Ciri looked up with emerald eyes, confusion clear there because how could she know how much those words would have frightened Jaskier. “Grandmother always said that when two people are truly meant to be together their scents mingled. It’s why hers and Grandfather’s scent smelt like the open sea. It’s why my Mother and Father smelt of the beach on a summers day. And it’s why you and Jaskier smell like a forest.”

Geralt felt his heart ache, seeing the violet eyes of Yennefer turn vivid and pained as he looked over Ciri’s head. Eskel was tense next to Geralt, Triss looking in shock at where Geralt held Ciri in a tight hug. “You belong together.”

…………………….

Jaskier didn’t no how long he sat in the tower room, playing his lute as his heart ached in pain. The tears had dried up and his fingers ached and bled in places from the continued playing but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was like a balm on the soul, the music. It let him express his feelings, his despair and sorrow and heartbreak in a way words never could.

He loved Geralt. He didn’t know how or when it had happened but he did. And it terrified him. Geralt was perfect, the perfect alpha. Kind and caring, protective and sweet, strong and safe. Geralt was safety. He felt like home. Jaskier had never felt so cared for apart from when he was wrapped in Geralt’s arms. And it terrified him more than the thought of going back to Redania.

He didn’t deserve love. He certainly didn’t deserve Geralt. Fuck, he was still claimed. The mark on his scent gland was burning an angry lace of fire down his veins straight into his heart, burning a hole into his very soul. He felt numb, washed to sea without hope of anyone finding him. And he didn’t know what to do.

A crash on the stairs and the door opening made Jaskier jump, his fingers dropping from the lute as abstract fear flooded through him as two Witchers came pounding into the room.

“Fuck, sorry. Didn’t know anyone was in here.” Aidan offered Jaskier a tentative smile as Lambert stood a few paces back, face turning a dark shade of red and a scowl on his face.

“Sorry.” Jaskier murmured, packing his lute into the case and moving to stand on shaking legs.

“Hey, no it’s fine. Stay.” Aidan grinned, grabbing Lambert’s arm and dragging the other Witcher into the room. Lambert came with a scowl and a grumble. “What you doing in here anyway?” Jaskier just shrugged, voice deserting him as his eyes darted between both Witchers, fear clutching his heart. The door was only a few metres away, he could leave, push past them and run.

But run where? To Geralt? No, Geralt deserved better than having to protect a pathetic useless omega all the time. “Geralt’s looking for you.” Aidan said, leaning on the wall and keeping his hands fully in view. “You missed lunch.”

“And dinner.” Lambert growled. Jaskier’s eyes darted to the window, surprised to find the sun beginning to set. “Would have sent a search party looking for you if Merigold hadn’t threatened to turned him into a pincushion.” Lambert smirked at that, apparently finding the thought of Geralt as a pin cushion amusing. Jaskier just frowned. Why would Geralt want to find him? Probably embarrassed Ciri thinks a pathetic omega like Jaskier would be good enough for the great white wolf. Probably wanted Jaskier to pack a bag and leave Kaer Morhen for good.

“Hey, don’t mind Geralt, he’s just worried.” Aidan said, Lambert snorting behind him.

“Overprotective bloody idiot you mean.” Jaskier just stared at the two Witchers with confusion clear in his eyes. Why would Geralt be worried? It didn’t make any sense.

“You not cold?” Lambert asked, frown on his face. Jaskier’s body chose that moment to shiver. It was cold in the room but like the time of day it had been forgotten while Jaskier bent over his lute playing away his agony. “Here.” Lambert growled, shoving his jerkin off and handing it to Jaskier. Jaskier took it with shaking hands, becoming aware of the twinge in his back and ribs as he moved to take it.

“Thank you.” Jaskier whispered, wrapping it around himself. Lambert just shrugged, glaring at the window at the weather outside.

Aidan grinned, slapping Lambert on the shoulder. “Don’t mind him, he just won’t admit he cares. Between you and me he’s a big teddy bear.”

“Fuck you.” Lambert growled, aiming a punch at Aidan’s head which Aidan dodged with a grin. The tips of Lambert’s ears had turned red at Aidan’s words.

“I’ll leave you to your…” Jaskier started but was cut off mid-sentence by Lambert growling “Training.” And Aidan winking at Jaskier, earning him a shove from Lambert.

“You ever use a knife?” Lambert asked as Jaskier moved to exit the room. Jaskier froze, heart thundering as he thought of all the way a knife could be sued to cut and scar his skin. 

“I…I…” Jaskier trembled, knuckles going white as he clutched desperately at his lute case.

“You’d be good at it.” Lambert continued, pulling a knife from somewhere on his person and flinging it into the air. It twirled 3 times before Lambert expertly caught it. “Your agile enough to slip past your opponent, catch ‘em unawares.”

“Omega’s can’t have weapons.” Jaskier found himself saying, repeating what he’d heard from his Father every day since he presented to being sent to Redania. Not that he’d minded, Jaskier had never been overly good with swords and had found the whole business of fighting ridiculous and stupid.

“Cause they can.” Aidan said, frown on his face. “First few years on the path I met this omega lady, fucking feral bitch she was. Took down a full grown alpha that tried to touch her young kids.” Jaskier looked at Aidan incredulously. An omega, taking down an alpha. It wasn’t possible.

“We can show you how to use it, if you want?” Lambert asked, eyes intense despite the uniterested look on his face.

“I…my ribs…” Jaskier mumbled, hands coming to rest on his re-broken ribs.

“Soon as they’re healed then.” Lambert said, placing the knife in his hand back into a sheathe, that like the knife had appeared seemingly from thin air. “Might make you feel safer.” He handed the knife over to Jaskier hilt first. Jaskier just stared at it, confusion flooding him.

“For now, all you need to know is stick ‘em with the pointy end.” Aidan said, mistaking Jaskier’s hesitation for not knowing how to use the knife. Jaskier nodded, taking the knife from Lambert with shaking hands. “Come find us when you’re ready to start training.” Aidan grinned.

“And don’t fucking ask Letho and Aukes. Those bastards’ll teach you how to stick a knife in a mans neck but they lack the finesse of a true master.” Lambert gave Jaskier a shit-eating grin, bringing another knife out and flicking it into the air.

Jaskier just nodded, exiting the room and staring at the knife in his hand. They’d armed him, they’d given him a weapon. A weapon to…to defend himself with? 

Something flamed in Jaskier’s heart as he looked at it, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He didn’t need anyone to protect him. He could protect himself.

And for the first time in to long, Jaskier felt safe in his own company.


	15. Chapter 15

Ciri wasn’t pleased. She’d expected Jaskier and Geralt to listen to her words and stop dancing around each other, as if either knew what they and the other were feeling. Except all her words had done was push the two idiots further apart.

And they were two idiots. Even a blind man could see how they were meant to be together. After all, she hadn’t been lying about their scents smelling good together. They matched. It was as simple as that. The scent of oaky wood and the scent of wildflowers in a light breeze. And the way the two looked at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Geralt with his brooding gaze that softened whenever Jaskier walked in, amber eyes following the omega around a room and a tiny smile running over his face. The way Jaskier’s blue eyes always seemed to light up when he saw Geralt, the way Jaskier seemed to come alive the second Geralt was in a room. 

Ciri knew she wasn’t the only one who saw it. Even Witchers, as thick headed to emotions as they were could see how much Geralt and Jaskier were meant to be together. She’d seen the smirks from Eskel over breakfast when Geralt and Jaskier’s hands accidentally touched. Geralt would grumble an apology, eyes fixed on the table and Jaskier’s cheeks would turn a light pink as he too apologised. Again, utter idiots.

But nothing she said or did seemed to make it any better, just worse. Jaskier hadn’t even been down for breakfast since she’d told him about him and Geralt smelling of a forest. She’d felt a bit guilty the next morning when Jaskier hadn’t been there and had gone up to find him the second breakfast was done. She’d all but grabbed the plate from Geralt’s hands, the alpha looking lost and amber eyes sad when Jaskier hadn’t turned up. 

Jaskier had been nothing but courteous to Ciri that morning. He’d smiled at her and then invited her into his room to eat breakfast with him. And then he’d sang Ciri songs that had Ciri almost, very almost forgetting why Jaskier wasn’t down in the great hall from the contagious joy brought on by Jaskier’s singing. But despite everything, Ciri knew there was something wrong. The dead look behind Jaskier’s blue eyes when he stared off into space was a dead give away.

No one had told Ciri what had happened to Jaskier, because unlike the two idiots she wasn’t one thank you very much and she could tell very well something had happened to Jaskier. She just didn’t know what. She’d tried asking Yennefer a week after Jaskier had first come to Kaer Morhen but the violet eyed sorceress had just looked sad for a moment and told Ciri, “Jaskier’s been through a lot and he needs time to recover.” It didn’t answer her question but she knew better than to argue.

She had overheard a few things from some of the Witchers, namely Lambert who was her best source of gossip. The wolf Witcher just couldn’t keep his mouth shut about anything, much to the annoyance of Geralt and the glee of Ciri. So she knew Jaskier had been hurt and abused, that he was effectively traumatised by what had happened (she still didn’t know details but something told her she probably didn’t want to know them). 

The problem was, Ciri couldn’t see Jaskier as traumatised. Yes, he was jumpy and she couldn’t forget their first meeting when he’d literally dropped to his knees in tears at her mere present. It had frightened her for the first time in a long time, but not because she was scared of Jaskier but because of the pain in Jaskier’s eyes. 

But despite their first meeting, Ciri could see something no one else in Kaer Morhen seemed to see in Jaskier. Everyone else treated him like glass, as if they were all balanced on a knife’s edge waiting for the omega to fall. But all Ciri could see was the unbridled joy and excitement and adventure in Jaskier’s face. Whenever Ciri was with Jaskier, the omega seemed to brighten to the point of near blinding. He was vivid and extravagant in his story telling and since getting the lute he’d become even more so.

Despite everything Ciri knew about Jaskier, despite even the pain she’d seen inside him, Ciri knew Jaskier for who he truly was. A bright, vibrant, over the top bard, who loved Geralt and who Geralt loved.

Which left her with a dilemma. No one else could see it and no one else was prepared to do anything about it. But Ciri knew something had to be done. Because Geralt and Jaskier were meant to be together and Ciri knew, she just knew that if Jaskier had Geralt then the person Ciri saw would soon become the person everyone saw.

The problem was, Ciri just didn’t know how to do it.

The answer came a little over a week later.

……………….

“What are you planning?” Eskel, Ciri knew it would be Eskel who found out her plans. It was always Eskel.

“Nothing.” Ciri smiled brightly, even as Eskel raised an eyebrow up at her.

“You’re not a good liar cub.” Lambert smirked, leaning against the wall leading to the library.

“Ladies don’t lie.” Ciri replied primly, repeating what Yennefer had always taught her. Eskel and Lambert shared a look before turning back to look at Ciri with identical looks of ‘I know you’re lying’. Ciri just sighed dramatically and glared at them both. “Geralt and Jaskier.”

“What about them?” Eskel asked, voice wary as Lambert just smirked.

“Ciri’s referring to the fact they want to fuck.” Eskel punched Lambert on the shoulder while Ciri did her best imitation of Vesemir’s disapproved scowl.

“Ciri, you know you can’t force two people to be together.” Eskel’s voice was gentle as he crouched on the floor so they were eye level.

“I know that.” Ciri glared at Eskel. “But they’re meant to be together.”

“Cub’s got a point.” Lambert, Ciri knew she could count on Lambert, he was always up for anything. Eskel turned wary eyes over to his brother who just shrugged. “Come on, you could have cut the tension with a bloody knife this week, those two not speaking to each other. Buttercup’s bringing down the mood in that fucking towers he’s always in playing those sad fucking ballads.”

Eskel looked between the two sceptically even as he said, “And Geralt almost dislocated Coen’s shoulder yesterday in training.”

It was true, there had been a serious amount of tension in Kaer Morhen this week. Between the scowl on Geralt’s face that had most Witcher’s running a mile (save Lambert who loved to annoy his brother, Eskel who could see right through Geralt’s worse scowl, and Vesemir who had seen enough of Geralt’s scowling over the years to become immune to their terrifying affects) and the sadness that had been surrounding Jaskier (that had everyone bar Ciri, Lambert, Aidan, Yennefer and Triss avoiding the omega; Kaer Morhen hadn’t been the most pleasant place to live recently.

“Ciri, Jaskier’s been through a lot.” Eskel started but Ciri just glowered at him.

“He’s not broken.” Ciri glared.

Lambert hummed his agreement. “Should see buttercup in our knife lessons, he’s got some serious anger bottled up.” 

“You’re teaching Jaskier how to use a knife.” Eskel rounded on Lambert even as Ciri just rolled her eyes. Was she really the only person in Kaer Morhen to know everything that was going on. She’d been spying on Jaskier’s knife lessons for 2 days, she was especially proud that it had taken Aidan nearly a full hour to spot her there considering the cat Witcher always seemed to know when she was lurking. Of course Aidan was as much fun as Lambert so had just caught her eye and smirked before turning back to the lessons.

Lambert was right, Jaskier did have some anger in him. He was still knew and Ciri could have disarmed him easily. But he was a keen learner and the way he thrust the knife into the sack of straw Lambert and Aidan had dragged up for him for Jaskier to train with, suggested Jaskier was imagining it to be a very specific person.

“Come on Eskel, if we leave them alone they’ll never be together.” Ciri tried, turning wide emerald eyes on Eskel that had always worked so well when she was younger. She internally cheered as she saw Eskel’s resolve crumble (slightly). “It’ll make them both happier.”

“And stop us having to watch them dance around each other like fucking morons.” Lambert muttered.

“What did you have planned?” Eskel said, voice filled with reluctance but Ciri just grinned as she produced the key to the tower room. She’d been routing around Vesemir’s desk for it for days and it had suddenly appeared on the desk as if summoned by her own chaos that very morning. She strongly suspected Vesemir knew exactly what she was planning and that was his silent way of giving her his blessing (or rather Jaskier and Geralt). Not that the old wolf would ever say it out loud.

“Lock them in the tower room. That way they’ll have to talk to each other.” Ciri announced gleefully.

“It’s cold up there.” Eskel pointed out.

“Even better, they can use each other for warmth.” Lambert grinned, earning him a smack on the head from Eskel.

“Geralt could break the door down easily.” Eskel pointed out and Ciri frowned. Yes, she supposed Geralt could. But…

“Yrden could lock them in there.” Ciri replied gleefully. “You could cast it and it would take Geralt ages to break out.”

“I don’t know Ciri.” Eskel’s voice was hesitant and filled with doubt.

“Please Eskel. For Geralt and Jaskier. They belong together.” Ciri tried and Eskel sighed, running a hand through his hair before silently nodding.

“Fine.”

……………

Jaskier ran his fingers over the lute strings, eyes closed and head bowed over the strings as he let the music flow through him. Words flew from his lips and he wished he had a notebook to scribble his musings down, but he quickly dismissed that idea. After all, who would want to listen to a song sung by an omega, much less such a sad heartbroken song as this.

It had been years since Jaskier had been able to play so often and he found his painfilled heart sing and heal ever so slightly at the chance to be able to sing about at least one of it’s pain. And in truth, the pain and knowledge that Geralt could never be his was perhaps worse pain than any Vizimir had ever inflicted on him. But love always was wasn’t it. It was a lesson Jaskier had learnt upon the loss of his first child, someone he had loved more than he thought possible. The pain of that loss had broken Jaskier’s heart in two, and the following miscarriages in half again and again and again. And now, with the knowledge that he had finally found someone he could love, someone he could trust and feel safe with, someone he could never have; it just shattered what remained of Jaskier’s broken heart into millions of pieces.

Jaskier felt tears sting at his eyes as the music filling the room hit a crescendo of loss and grief before turning a corner into a sad sort of acceptance. He wasn’t good enough for Geralt, would never be good enough for Geralt. And that knowledge, however painful, was the truth.

The sound of running footsteps made Jaskier pause in his playing. He felt his whole body tense up as he quickly dropped the lute into it’s case and picked up the dagger Lambert had given him. He’d only learnt a few basics, and he knew he wasn’t very good but the weight of the dagger clenched in his hand made him feel somewhat safer. 

The footsteps grew louder and Jaskier’s heart hammered in his chest. It didn’t matter that he knew no one would hurt him in Kaer Morhen, none of that mattered when experience told him running footsteps where never good. He remembered to many times running footsteps had lead to anger and cursing, and pain and fear. Jaskier curling into a tight ball to try and protect himself from angry fists or hands grabbing at bared flesh. He remembered being dragged from the temporary safety he had found only to be tied down and raped, or tied down and whipped for having hidden from the torment even for a few hours. He shivered at the memories and clutched the dagger tighter.

He wouldn’t roll over again. He wouldn’t be defenceless again. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance if someone decided to hurt him, he wasn’t strong or adapt with a knife. But he would be damned if he let someone touch him without putting up a fight first.

…………..

“Jaskier’s hurt.” Those where the words that dragged through Geralt’s skull at Lambert’s words as he followed him and Eskel through the corridors. Witchers glanced past them, worry in their faces but Geralt wasn’t paying attention. All that mattered was Jaskier was hurt. He was hurt. Fuck, Geralt had promised Jaskier that he was safe here and now…fuck, when Geralt found the person responsible for harming Jaskier he’d kill them, rip them apart with his bared hands the way he should have done for Vizimir.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Geralt didn’t register where Eskel and Lambert were leading him. He didn’t even register them falling back as the scent of wildflowers tinged with fear filled Geralt’s nostrils and he was running at full pelt towards that scent. He couldn’t smell blood, that was good, wasn’t it? Except there were so many ways to hurt someone, for Jaskier to be hurt.

Geralt stormed up the corridor and nearly knocked the door off it’s hinges as he barged in. Only to freeze at the sight that greeted him.

Jaskier stood with fear in his bright blue eyes, body visibly shaking in fear. But that wasn’t what drew Geralt’s eye, it was the knife held in front of Jaskier in shaking hands. Geralt stared as Jaskier stared back.

And then a loud bang had Jaskier jumping, the knife nearly falling from his hands and Geralt twirling on his leg to see a flash of blonde hair before the door slammed shut.

There was a clang of a key. Geralt put his shoulder against the door, preparing to knock it down, only to feel chaos fill the air. Geralt put all his strength behind shoving the door open but the door didn’t even budge. Yrden, someone had cast fucking Yrden.

“You’re not coming out until you talk.” Ciri’s voice, filled with victory as footsteps faded down the hall.

Geralt felt his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly turned to where Jaskier was still standing, pale as a ghost knuckles white where they clenched the knife in shaking hands.

Fuck.


	16. Chapter 16

Geralt could feel the tension and panic flowing from Jaskier, fuck he could feel it as if it was a tangible thing. Jaskier’s whole body was trembling with the force of his panic. He was poised as if to run, hands clutching the dagger trembling so much he would have dropped it if not for the death grip Jaskier had it in.

Slowly with exaggerated movements, Geralt held his hands in the air. Jaskier’s panicked gasp clawed at Geralt’s heart as he froze his movements. “Please.” Jaskier’s voice was a thin thread, desperation clawing at it.

Fuck, what where they thinking. What where they fucking thinking locking Jaskier in a room. And what the fuck was Geralt going to do. He wasn’t emotionally capable of looking after his own emotions let alone someone else’s, let alone Jaskier who had spent most of his life being abuse and tormented. Fuck.

Jaskier’s blue eyes were darting across the room. From Geralt, to the door, to the window that lead hundreds of feet below them to the cold hard ground. Geralt saw Jaskier’s eyes dart to the window and freeze and he was acting on instinct, putting himself between Jaskier and the only means of escape Jaskier felt he had.

Except Geralt had forgotten two very important things, two things that had Vesemir been here he would have berated Geralt as if he was still a Witcher fresh from the trials. The knife in Jaskier’s hand, and the desperation in Jaskier’s eyes.

Desperate people did foolish things, Vesemir had once told Geralt. Desperation gave someone twice more strength than they originally possessed, it made their actions erratic, unpredictable. And Jaskier was desperate. He was cornered, in a room with an alpha. Geralt could only imagine what had happened the last time Jaskier had been cornered like this, cornered by an alpha that probably bent him over and raped him to within an inch of sanity. And it didn’t matter that Geralt would never hurt Jaskier, it didn’t matter that Jaskier knew he was safe in Kaer Morhen. All that matttered was Jaskier felt cornered, and someone who felt cornered was desperate.

The knife flashed across Geralt’s side, not even breaking skin past the thick leather of Geralt’s doublet but it didn’t stop Jaskier’s wild swing. Geralt dodged the knife, pressing his back against the wall and holding his hands up in surrender. Another thing Vesemir would have berated him for but Geralt wasn’t going to hurt Jaskier. He couldn’t.

“I can’t...not again...”. Jaskier sobbed. There were tears flowing down his cheek as he twirled to face Geralt, breath coming in harsh gasps as his hands shook. “Please don’t make me.”

“Jaskier...”. Geralt started but Jaskier shouted “No.” and ran at Geralt with the knife.

Geralt side stepped away, brain wracking over what to do. Fuck, the only thing he could think of was to get the knife away from Jaskier but that would mean disarming him and...fuck, that would mean hurting him and Geralt had promised, he’d fucking promised Jaskier was safe here.

“Loosen your grip.” Geralt found himself, a part of him that had always looked to Vesemir channelling the old wolf in this moment. 

“What?” Jaskier stuttered, some of the tension ebbing from his body. 

“Loosen your grip, your holding it to tight.” Jaskier’s eyes flashed to Geralt confusion written in them as his hands slowly loosened their death grip on the knife. “Good.” Geralt encouraged, smiling softly at Jaskier. “Now your feet. Spread them wide.”

A small confused frown was appearing on Jaskier’s face as his body moved through the movements Geralt suggested. He parted his feet and Geralt hummed in confirmation that he was doing it correctly. “Spread your weight.” The scent of fear was slowly dispersing from the room as a clarity that until this point had been missing from Jaskier’s blue eyes returned. 

“Good.” Geralt encouraged as Jaskier settled into a stance. 

“Why?” Jaskier breathed, voice trembling.

“You need to know how to hold your weapon if you have one.” Geralt recited back a lesson Vesemir had drilled into their heads as boys. 

“The door.” Jaskier’s voice, wavering on the words.

“It’s locked.” Geralt immediately regretted the words as it sent Jaskier into panicked gasps as tension once more began to fill his body. “It’s ok.” geralt tried, aware of the panic etching his own voice. “Just a joke. It’s fine.”

“A...a joke?” Jaskier asked, fear clouding his scent once more.

“Ciri. She didn’t think. She didn’t mean to upset you.” Geralt knew it wasn’t just Ciri, for a start he knew Eskel’s signs well and for a second Lambert wasn’t to far behind any trouble caused in the keep.

“Ciri...” Jaskier blinked owlishly, a few tears leaking from his eyes as his arms holding the knife up slowly dropped. “I...I don’t understand.”

“She wanted us to talk.” Geralt said, heart breaking as Jaskier just looked even more confused about the sentence. And fuck, Geralt didn’t know what to do. Jaskier was terrified, that much was obvious. Fuck, he was terrified enough to use a knife on Geralt. And that overwhelming fact had Geralt’s whole body seeming to slump in on itself as he dropped to sit on the ground. Fuck, did he terrify Jaskier that much?

.......

Jaskier blinked as he watched the alpha in front of him drop to the ground. His mind felt like it was swimming through fog. When the door had closed he’d acted on pure instinct, a need to survive, to be safe filling him as he’d turned on the alpha in front of him. And then the alpha had started speaking with Geralt’s voice and Jaskier hadn’t understood. Geralt was safe, Geralt was kind and caring and nothing like the alpha’s that had locked Jaskier in rooms before.

Hesitantly, hand still clutching onto the knife like it was a lifeline, Jaskier walked over to Geralt. Geralt’s head was bowed, resting in his hands and Jaskier could smell the pain coming from Geralt. Geralt was in pain? 

Jaskier gently sat himself next to Geralt, his shoulders brushing against Geralt on his way down. Geralt froze and instinct had Jaskier’s hands tighten around the knife again. Except this was Geralt, jaskier reminded himself. Geralt wasn’t going to hurt him. He’d promised. The traitorous part of his mind reminded Jaskier that alphas never kept their promise.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt’s voice was filled with pain.

“You didn’t lock us in.” jaskier said, surprised to find his own voice sounding as if it had been scraped raw. No, Ciri had locked them in, to talk. To talk about what?

The two sat for a long time in utter silence. Jaskier’s mind still scrambling around to piece together something he didn’t understand. Why did Geralt sound in pain? Why had Ciri locked them in the tower room? Why did they have to talk? Why could he fight against Geralt, someone he knew he could trust, when he hadn’t once tried to fight Vizimir or all the other alphas that had tried to hurt him? Why, just why?

He hadn’t realised he was crying again until he felt the tears fall onto his hands, curled in his lap and still wrapped around the knife. The knife he’d used to hurt Geralt. Fuck, he’d felt the knife hit Geralt. Suddenly the thought of having the knife in his hand filled Jaskier with a sick nasuea and he threw it across the room.

..........

Geralt looked up at the sound of the metal clanging against the wall. His whole body tensed, ready to throw himself in front of jaskier to protect the omega but there was no one in the room. Just him and jaskier. And the clanging had been the knife hitting the far wall.

Before Geralt could begging to understand that, Jaskier was speaking. “I hurt you.” There was an edge of hysteria in Jaskier’s voice which had Geralt instantly looking up, only to meet panic filled blue eyes. “I...fuck Geralt...I...”

“You didn’t.” Geralt interrupted before Jaskier could build himself into any further panic. Disbelief coloured Jaskier’s face. Geralt went to shrug his doublet off to show Jaskier there was no wound when Jaskier’s sharp intake of breath stopped him. Fuck, of course stripping out of his clothes wasn’t going to help the situation.

“Jaskier, look at me.” Geralt growled, relief flooding him as Jaskier lifted his blue tear filled eyes to look at Geralt. “You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

“I know.” And despite the circumstances, Geralt felt his heart soar at those words. “But...I hurt you. I attacked you.”

“You were acting on instinct.” Geralt growled, taking Jaskier’s hands in his own. He expected Jaskier to flinch back but Jaskier seemed only to calm at the touch so geralt squeezed them softly in his own. “I don’t blame you.”

“I never attacked them.” Jaskier whispered and Geralt didn’t need to ask who them was to know. “Why...why didn’t I?” jaskier whispered, pain in his voice as if he desperately looked for Geralt as if he could provide the answers.

“Survival instinct.” Geralt said, surprising even himself with the words. Jaskier looked at him, blue eyes filled with confusion and Geralt desperately wracked his brains to come up with an explanation, lest he lose Jaskier to the panic filling his mind. “You...in Redania, you knew you weren’t safe. It’s...it’s like...like a deer, caught by a wolf. It knows when it’s been caught and when fighting is useless. It stops so it doesn’t have to feel pain anymore.” Geralt cursed himself. How was that going to help? Fuck, he wished Yennefer was here right now, or Eskel, or Vesemir, fuck even Lambert couldn’t do a worse job than he currently was.

“You’re saying because I knew I couldn’t escape in Redania that’s why I didn’t fight back.” Jaskier’s voice was hesitant and Geralt forced himself to hum in agreement. “I...I never thought of it like that.” There was that frown again, marring the smooth planes of Jaskier’s face. Geralt couldn’t help himself as he ran a finger down the soft skin of Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier gasped, blue eyes turning to look at Geralt, but there wasn’t any hint of fear there, only trust surrounded with the scent of dandelions ad buttercups.

“Why did Ciri want us to talk?” Jaskier asked, voice quiet and Geralt felt his heart fill with pain once more. He just growled, dropping his hand from Jaskier’s face as he turned to glare at the wall opposite them. “Is it...is it about what happened the other day? When she said...when she said that we smelt good together?”

Geralt felt his heart ache at those words even as their scents intermingled in the air as if tormenting him. They did smell good together. They smelt like home. “Jaskier I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” jaskier interrupted Geralt before he could finish. “I know it could never work.”

Geralt felt his heart ache at the confirmation flowing from Jaskier’s lips. Hearing Jaskier say the words was more painful than Geralt only knowing the truth could ever be. 

“I don’t deserve you.” The words flowed from Geralt and Jaskier’s lips at the same time.

..........

“You...you don’t deserve me?” Jaskier stared at Geralt incredulously even as Geralt stared at Jaskier with confusion and pain written in those amber eyes.

“Of course not.” Geralt growled, shifting further away from Jaskier, making Jaskier’s broken heart break further. “How could I Jaskier?”

“How could I deserve you?” jaskier retorted, voice hinged with hysteria but not caring. He needed to say this, the words pouring out of him in a torrent. “Look at me Geralt, really look at me.” 

“I am.” Geralt said, voice filled with a pain that echoed Jaskier’s own.

Jaskier couldn’t help the hysterical laugh that flew from his lips as tears started to flow from his eyes once more. “Then you know I could never deserve you. I’m broken, can’t you see that Geralt? Broken and used. There isn’t a part of me that hasn’t been taken by someone else. You deserve so much better Geralt, my dear white wolf. You deserve the world not...not some broken used brood mare.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was sharp but the hand that took Jaskier’s own was gentle and kind. “You can’t believe that.”

“It’s what I am.” Jaskier lifted his head and gave Geralt a watery smile. “I’m used good and no matter what anyone does to try and fix it, I’ll always belong to him. I’ll never be able to get away from him.”

“You don’t.” Geralt growled, voice firm as he squeezed Jaskier’s hands. “You don’t belong to him, you never have and when Yenn and Triss get rid of the mating mark...”

“Then what.” Jaskier interrupted, anger colouring his tone. “It’ll be like it never happened. I was a fool. I was a fool to think getting rid of one scar would make me free. Every part of me has a mark that he made. Every time I close my eyes its him I see, laughing at me, mocking me. I’ll never be free Geralt, and you deserve someone who is. You deserve someone who could be just yours, someone you don’t have to share.”

‘You are your own person.” Geralt growled. Jaskier went to interrupt but Geralt was quicker, voice edged with anger but hands so gentle where they held Jaskier’s. “It doesn’t matter what he did, it doesn’t matter that you have scars or that you have nightmares of what he did to you. You are free, you are your own person and you will never, never belong to anyone ever again.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt, blinking back tears. “You deserve better than me Geralt.”

“Jaskier, if anyone deserves better it’s you.” Geralt’s amber eyes were filled with pain and grief as he smiled softly at Jaskier. “You deserve a family, someone who will love you forever, someone who will treat you the way you deserve. You deserve a life with love and laughter and happiness. I can’t give you that. I can’t give you a family.”

“Geralt, you have given me something more important than any of those things. You’ve given me belief, belief in myself, belief that I can be safe. Belief...belief that one day, maybe I could be free.”

“You can.” Geralt growled, hand coming to cup Jaskier’s cheeks, Jaskier found himself leaning into those soft warm hands. “You are free, you will always be free. But Jaskier, I’m a Witcher, a monster.”

“I’ve known monsters.” Jaskier interrupted grabbing Geralt’s hands as they feel away from Jaskier’s cheeks and holding them in a tight grasp. “And you Geralt are no monster.”

“Jaskier, I can’t give you children, I can’t give you a family.” Jaskier felt his heart ache at those words, a longing filling him that made tears slide once more down his face as the cracks and breaks in his heart seemed to become highlighted.

“I can’t have children.” Jaskier whispered, seeing Geralt go to interrupt and silencing the white-haired alpha with a soft smile. “I can’t go through it all again Geralt. Not after so many loses.”

“You wouldn’t lose your children again, it wouldn’t be the same as last time.” jaskier just shocked his head sadly, heart aching.

“I loved all my children.” Jaskier whispered. “I loved them more powerfully than I thought was possible and every time I lost them it shattered my heart. Every time I became pregnant I told myself I would grow attached, I wouldn’t love them and every time I couldn’t help myself.” Geralt’s arm wrapped around Jaskier’s shoulders and Jaskier found himself snuggling close into Geralt’s side. “I can’t go through that loss again Geralt. I just can’t.”

“You deserve better than a Witcher.” Geralt’s spoke, head bending to press a kiss to Jaskier’s head.

“And you deserve better than a broken omega.” Jaskier repeated, burying his face into Geralt’s chest. “But I...this thing between us...Geralt it...I can’t just ignore it.” jaskier whispered, pain lacing his voice. “Every time I see you it hurts and I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“I don’t want you to.” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s hair, arms tightening in their hold around Jaskier. “But I don’t know what to do to make it better.”

Jaskier leant back from Geralt’s arms, looking into pained amber eyes as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. Not out of fear though, out of desire. A desire to be wrapped in Geralt’s arms, to be held safe and protected. “Kiss me.”

...........

Geralt’s heart stopped at Jaskier’s words, eyes searching Jaskier for any sign of any doubt. Except there was none, just a steady determination in Jaskier’s eyes. There was no fear in Jaskier’s scent either, simply the scent of wildflowers filling the space.

“You’re sure?” Geralt asked, voice hesitant as he ran a hand down Jaskier’s spine. Jaskier shivered and nodded his head.

Geralt didn’t move though, heart still frozen in place as he looked at Jaskier, truly looked at this amazing wonderful omega in his arms. Blue eyes swinging bright, pain hidden in the depths but if you looked even further you could see the bravery and kindness shining through. The way the tips of Jaskier’s brown hair curled upwards, the softness of it against Geralt’s fingers as his hand trailed up Jaskier’s back to run a hand threw his hair. The paleness of Jaskier’s skin which highlighted the plush warm lips that had opened slightly in anticipation.

“I’m sure.” jaskier whispered, leaning forwards in Geralt’s arms and pressing his lips to Geralt’s.

...........

Jaskier felt his body tense as his lips pressed against Geralt but he ignored it as he pressed his lips more forcibly against Geralt, remaining himself that this was his choice, his choice to kiss Geralt. Geralt’s hands came to settle around Jaskier’s waists, not trapping simply holding. Jaskier’s own arms came to wrap hesitantly around Geralt’s neck as he dove further against Geralt’s lips, eyes closed as Geralt kissed him back.

He’d never had a true kiss before. Yes, he’d played around when he’d been younger, back before he’d even presented, but those hadn’t been true kisses just children fooling around. And in Redania it had been the one thing they’d never done to him there, kiss him. For that Jaskier was eternally grateful as he felt his whole body melt into the kiss with Geralt.

...........

Geralt didn’t think it was possible for a kiss to say so many things and so much more. Jaskier seemed to surround him. He was pressed solidly against Geralt’s body, arms hooked around Geralt’s neck, Geralt’s arms wrapped around his slender waist keeping them both from falling over. Their lips were pressed solidly against each other.

Jaskier’s lips were warm and plush against Geralt’s own. He could taste the berries Jaskier was partial to on the omega’s lips. He could smell the wildflowers surrounding him, mixing with his own scent. Jaskier murmured into he kiss, lips lifting into a soft smile as he gently pulled back.

Geralt felt himself want to pull Jaskier back down for another kiss but stopped himself, instead letting Jaskier pull back. Jaskier had spent his whole life forced to do things he didn’t want to, Geralt would never force Jaskier to do anything ever again.

Jaskier didn’t go far, instead of pulling away he cuddled himself against Geralt’s chest. Geralt hummed, his arms wrapping around Jaskier as he leant against the wall. Their legs wrapped around each other, a part of Geralt’s settling with a happy purr at the weight of Jaskier pressed tight against him.

“I’ve never courted an omega.” Geralt admitted a little embarrassed that he didn’t know what to do, earning him a laugh from Jaskier. It was a soft laugh but it seemed to tinkle across the room like a soft bell, warming Geralt’s heart.

“I don’t want to be courted.” Jaskier lifted his head, resting his forehead against Geralt’s so Geralt was looking into bright blue eyes. Jaskier’s eyes seemed to dance as a soft hesitant smile filled his face. “I just want you.”

And Geralt hummed as Jaskier once more leant down and kissed Geralt softly.


	17. Chapter 17

When Yennefer walked into the great hall for dinner, she knew something was off. Ciri was sitting with a pleased smile on her face, Lambert was smirking as he talked with Aidan and Eskel looked guilty. Holding back a sigh, Yennefer settled herself at the table, glancing between the 3 before her gaze settled on Ciri. Ciri ducked her head under Yennefer’s gaze and the sorceress internally sighed, and then cursed Geralt for not being at dinner. It wasn’t a rare accurate, Geralt being the ridiculous man he was spending hours standing outside Jaskier’s rooms, pacing back and forth as if trying to persuade himself to go in, only to stalk off down the corridor if anyone saw him doing it.

“What happened?” Yennefer asked, raising an eyebrow. Ciri ducked her head and Lambert smirked. Yennefer sighed again, the last time Ciri had dragged Eskel and Lambert into one of her schemes had resulted in geese laying waste to the hot springs and that wasn’t something Yennefer cared to ever repeat.

Eskel’s gaze was piercing into the table and Yennefer could almost feel the guilt waving from the scarred Witcher. Turning her piercing gaze to Eskel, Yennefer said: “What happened?”

Lambert sighed, Yennefer turning to look at him as Lambert rolled his eyes. “We locked them in the tower room.”

“Locked who.” Yennefer felt her heart sink to the floor at Lambert’s words. She hadn’t seen Geralt since breakfast, and when she’d gone to the library where Jaskier spent the time he didn’t spend playing his lute in a specific tower room on the north side of Kaer Morhen, he hadn’t been there. “Who?” Yennefer growled, putting menace into her voice that had Lambert shrinking a little under her gaze.

“Jaskier and Geralt.” Eskel, voice raging with guilt.

“You locked a traumatised omega in a room with an emotionally stunted Witcher.” Yennefer asked, anger colouring her tone. Chaos fizzled in the air around her, making Triss and Vesemir look up from where they’d been discussing the stock in the potions room.

“They needed to talk.” Ciri retorted. Yennefer could hear an under colouring of doubt in Ciri’s voice but she his it well as she met Yennefer’s gaze head on. if it had been any other situation Yennefer might have been proud of her daughters ability to be unfazed by Yennefer’s obvious anger. As it was, Yenenfer was barely restraining herself from blasting Eskel and Lambert down the mountain path, Ciri she would never hurt but she and the girl would be having stern words that would make Yenenfer’s plans for Eskel and Lambert look like a stroll on a summers day.

“They needed to fuck more like.” Lambert, who could never shut his mouth in any situation, smirked. Eskel sighed, shaking his head in exasperation and Yennefer stood to her full height, glaring the Witcher down. Lambert had the decency to shrink back from Yennefer’s anger filled glare.

“Enough.” Vesemir’s growl from the table. Until that point Yennefer hadn’t noticed the room go to silence, every Witcher in Kaer Morhen watching the events happening at the White Wolfs table. “Yennefer, find Geralt and Jaskier. I’ll deal with Eskel and Lambert.” 

Yennefer turned piercing eyes on the two of them, Eskel looking even guiltier than he had and even Lambert showing guilt in his eyes. Ciri was looking at her hands, tension written in her shoulders. “Ciri, we will discuss this when I’m finished clearing this mess.” Yenenfer stated with a finality in her tone that had Ciri nodding rather than arguing like she normally would. “And you two,” Yennefer turned her anger filed glare to the two Witchers in front of her. “If there’s a single mark on that omega you will wish I’d kill you.”

“Geralt won’t hurt Jaskier.” Eskel’s voice, quiet but firm in his belief.

“I know.” Yennefer accepted, anger still boiling through her veins. “But do you really think Jaskier will have reacted well to be locked in a room with an alpha, no matter how much he trusts Geralt.”

“We didn’t think.” Lambert, voice chagrined.

“No, you didn’t.” yennefer growled, turning on her heel and stalking from the room.

.......

“Are Geralt and Jaskier ok?” Ciri asked, voice small as she turned to look at Vesemir. The whole great hall was silent, tension filling the air as they waited for an answer to Ciri’s question. It wasn’t just Geralt, their leader and brother, they were worried for, it was Jaskier. The omega had crept into their hearts over the short time he’d been here and none of them wanted to see him hurt. Not again, not when he was meant to be safe here.

Vesemir turned his gaze over the hall before coming to settle on Ciri. “They’ll be fine.” Except Ciri saw the niggling of doubt in Vesemir’s eyes and felt pain lace through her heart. She’d just wanted to help.

..............

Yennefer’s heels clicked down the hallway as she stalked to the tower room. She didn’t need to know where she was going, the closer she got the more she could smell the stale scent of fear lacing the air. Jaskier. How had the Witchers not noticed this? It might be an abandoned part of the castle but with the Witchers enhanced senses she would have thought they would have smelled the fear cloying the air. Except fear wove a cloak around Jaskier’s shoulders most days, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise they hadn’t thought anything new of it. It still ratted Yennefer though., the thought of Jaskier being locked in a small room panicked and filled with fear with no way out.

She’d come to care for the omega, even more so since learning of his loss. Her heart went out to Jaskier, feeling like she’d met a kindred spirit in a way. Jaskier’s loss mirroring her own inability to have children, but Yennefer knew Jaskier’s loss hurt more than hers. She had never been able to conceive, not after what had been done in Aretuza, and the loss of that inability had haunted her, still haunted her though it had faded somewhat since finding Ciri, since she had given it up. To be pregnant, only for your child to be ripped away...Yennefer could only imagine the pain Jaskier had felt.

So she wanted to protect Jaskier, she wanted to help Jaskier in a way she had never wanted to help anyone but Ciri before. Because despite what she proclaimed to the outside world, Yennefer of Vengerburg did have a heart, and it cried out for the pain Jaskier had gone through. 

She could feel the magic of the sign on the door and she gathered her chaos before waving her hand in the air. The sign fell away and she had the door swinging open in a blink of an eye. Yennefer stalked into the room, preparing herself to have to talk down a panicked and terrified omega. 

Yenenfer expected to find Jaskier sobbing, or gasping panicked breaths. She expected to see Geralt’s panicked expression probably growling and frightening the poor omega even more. What she didn’t expect to see was alpha and omega sitting on the floor.

Geralt’s arms were wrapped around Jaskier, Jaskier’s head buried into Geralt’s chest. The fear scent she had smelt all the way here had been stale, now it was near all gone, instead replaced with the scent of...a forest clearing.

Geralt looked up to see Yennefer, gently rubbing Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier shifted from where he’d been pressed so tightly against Geralt’s sides, eyes blinking back sleep. The blue of his eyes were red rimmed from tears but there were no tears there now.

Yennefer watched with shock as Geralt got to his feet, one hand wrapping around Jaskier’s waist and pulling the omega up with him. Jaskier went willingly, even pressing himself into Geralt’s side as they stood in front of Yennefer, Geralt’s hand still wrapped protectively around Jaskier’s waist.

“Ciri was right.” Jaskier smiled, a soft smile that lit up his face as he looked up at Geralt. “We just needed to talk.”

Yennefer looked between the two of them, seeing in them something she had ever seen before. Gone was Geralt’s brooding underlying anger, instead replaced with a soft smile and warmth in his eyes as he looked at jaskier. Gone was the fear and despair wrapped so tightly around Yenenfer thought it would smother him, his eyes no longer a dulled blue but shining bright as he smiled back at Geralt.

Yennefer felt her heart warm at the sight as she offered them one of her rare real smiles. “I can see that.” Jaskier turned to smile at her and Yennefer saw for the first time the man jaskier should always have been. Bright, joyful, vibrant. “It’s sickeningly sweet.” Yennefer smirked, Geralt glaring at the floor like the emotionally stunted fool he was while Jaskier both beamed at the praise and turned a dark pink colour. 

“We aim to please my lady.” Jaskier’s voice even sounded different as he stepped away from Geralt’s hold on his waist, though Yennefer did note that Geralt still kept a hand gently placed on Jaskier’s back, as the omega, no the bard gave a theatrical bow.

Yennefer just smirked, turning her gaze to Geralt. For a moment amber eyes and violet eyes stared at one another before Yennefer gave a brief nod and Geralt returned the nod with a grateful look. 

“You missed dinner by the way.” Yennefer stated as she turned on her heel to leave, Jaskier once more leaning heavily into Geralt’s side. She was right, they were sickeningly sweet. And if anyone asked her she would deny the fact that it warmed her heart to see the both of them smiling so happily.

..............

Jaskier was a warm weight pressed against Jaskier’s side as they walked down the corridor back to Jaskier’s rooms. The scent of wildflowers filled Geralt’s nostrils and he tightened his hands around Jaskier’s waist, smiling softly as Jaskier glanced blue eyes up at him. “What?” jaskier asked, laughter in his voice as he smiled up at Geralt.

“Nothing.” Geralt just smiled back. He’d never felt this warmth before, nothing had ever felt this right before; but Jaskier in his arms, smiling up at him felt right. More than right, it felt like destiny. 

A blonde blur ran around the corridor, crashing into the two. Jaskier startled, fear souring his scent for a moment before he looked down and realised who it was. “Ciri?” Geralt felt the warmth in his heart vanish as he saw the tears flowing down his child surprise’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Ciri sobbed, throwing her arms around Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier let out a little huff as he bent down so they were the same height and he could hug Ciri properly. Ciri sobbed louder, burying her head into Jaskier’s neck and clinging tighter. “I only wanted to help.”

“And you did, little lion cub.” Jaskier soothed, rubbing a hand down Ciri’s back as the girl sobbed into his arms. 

“Really?” Ciri asked, lifting her head to look at Jaskier who nodded with a soft smile on his face.

“I promise.” Ciri nodded, hugging Jaskier fiercely again before turning to Geralt. Sh hand her head both to hide the tears on her face and the shame written there. Geralt felt his heart ache at the sight, even as it warmed as Jaskier remained crouched by Ciri’s side ready to comfort the girl if need be.

“You understand what you did wrong?” Geralt asked, ignoring the frown on Jaskier’s face.

“Yes.” Ciri said, voice wavering slightly. “I shouldn’t have locked you in the tower room. It was wrong of us.” Geralt hummed.

“And you understand why it was wrong?” Geralt asked, hating the way Jaskier’s bright blue eyes dimmed as if this was his fault that Ciri was being told off. 

“Because it hurt Jaskier, and you.” Ciri replied and Geralt grunted, crouching in front of his cub and wrapping her into his arms.

“You were wrong to do what you did.” Geralt grunted into her ear. “But thank you.” Geralt lifted amber eyes to look at Jaskier, seeing the softness in those blue eyes as he smiled at Geralt and Ciri.

“Vesemir said Eskel and Lambert have to run laps around the keep for the next 3 weeks as punishment.” Ciri stated. “Do I have to as well?” Geralt hated to punish Ciri, but after many arguments with Yennefer he also knew that sometimes he had to. 

“No.” Jaskier interrupted, looking at Geralt as if daring the alpha to argue with him. “You can help me in the library instead.” Ciri grinned, wrapping her arms around Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier chuckled softly, hugging her tightly back.

“I really am sorry.” Ciri said as she stepped away to look at the both.

“And we forgive you.” Jaskier promised, taking Geralt’s hand and leaning into Geralt’s side. Ciri grinned at the sight and all but ran down the corridor. Geralt had no doubt that by tomorrow the whole keep would know about him and Jaskier.

..............

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Jaskier said, stepping into the circle of Geralt’s arms and resting his head on the alphas chest. It was strange how well he fit there, like they were made for each other.

“Don’t be.” Geralt grumbled, kissing the top of Jaskier’s head and holding him softly. “You handled it perfectly.” Jaskier smiled softly, leaning further into Geralt’s chest and sighing in contentment. Geralt hummed, a small smile appearing on his face. “Come on, You should get some rest, it’s been a long day.”

.......

Someone, most likely Triss Geralt suspected, had left two trays filled with food in Jaskier’s rooms. Geralt and jaskier ate in silence, though for once the silence didn’t feel tense, it felt right. They were sat on the fur rug by the fire, Jaskier wrapped in another fur Geralt had placed over his shoulders when he saw Jaskier shiver softly against the cold.

Now, the plates were stacked to the side and Jaskier was pressed firmly against Geralt chest in front of the fire. “Can you stay?” Jaskier voice was soft, hesitant. “I...I’m afraid to fall asleep.” jaskier admitted to the silence of the room. Geralt’s heart twisted as he pulled Jaskier closer to his chest.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me.” Geralt promised, the scent of wildflowers growing stronger at those words.

........

That night Jaskier fell asleep wrapped in the safe warm comfort in Geralt’s arms. His head rested on Geralt’s chest, listening to the calming soft thuds of Geralt’s heart as the scent of oak and horses surrounded him.

It was the first time in 8 years that Jaskier slept soundly.


	18. Chapter 18

Jaskier was happy, happier than he had ever been in his entire life. Nothing had really changed but at the same time it felt like everything had changed. It was like something inside Jaskier had settled, like he’d turned back into the person he was always meant to be.

He wasn’t scared anymore. Walking into the breakfast after his first real, true nights sleep in so long, Jaskier hadn’t even blinked. Previously he’d had to steel himself to walk past the Witchers seated around, always aware of their eyes on him even if none of them looked. But that morning, Jaskier just walked right past them. He didn’t know if it was Geralt at his side, warm hand wrapped protectively around Jaskier’s waist; or something else entirely but for the first time in so long Jaskier hadn’t been afraid.

It felt good, freeing to be free of the fear that had wrapped so solidly around him Jaskier had honestly forgotten how it felt to not be afraid. Like flying, or floating on a cloud of pure joy. It was just so strange.

That morning Eskel and Lambert had come up to Jaskier, chagrined looks on their faces and apologised. “We’re sorry Jaskier, we shouldn’t have locked you in that room.” Eskel had stated, voice gruff and filled with guilt as he stared at the stone flooring at his feet.

“Yeah, we fucked up.” Lambert had growled. Before Jaskier might have been afraid of upsetting two fully grown alpha’s, afraid of what they would do to him for being forced to apologise to him. But now...

“I don’t blame you.” Jaskier had simply said, turning to give Geralt a soft smile before adding. “And I should be saying thank you. It...it helped.”

Eskel had looked doubtful but when Lambert had looked at the way Jaskier was pressed against Geralt’s side he’d just smirked and laughed, coming over to clap Geralt on the back. Lambert had hesitated at Jaskier, a look passing over his eyes as if unsure whether to touch the omega or not. Jaskier had solved the Witchers dilemma by giving Lambert a full bodied hug that had left Geralt smirking and Lambert a dark shade of red and grumbling about “over affectionate omegas” as he walked away.

Jaskier had then turned to Eskel, still looking guilty at the floor. “I really am sorry Jaskier, we didn’t meant to frighten you.” jaskier had gently wrapped his arms around Eskel and hugged the scarred Witcher tightly.

“I won’t deny you did. But, if you didn’t I wouldn’t have Geralt so I’m glad that you did it.” And Eskel had grumbled as Jaskier stepped away, eyes downcast and ears turning a shade pink as he’d walked away.

“You went to easy on them.” Geralt growled into Jaskier’s hair as he pulled Jaskier close. jaskier giggled at the feeling even as he shoved Geralt off so he could settle into a chair for breakfast. Geralt compensated by grabbing Jaskier’s hand under the table and refusing to let go.

“Don’t worry about them getting off.” Yennefer had stated, a knowing look in her violet eyes as she turned to Vesemir. “The old wolf settled on a fitting punishment for them.”

Jaskier had turned to the old wold, seeing the smirk matched in his amber eyes as he nodded. “They’ll be running laps until they’ve suitably learnt their lesson.”

“I really don’t blame them.” Jaskier had tried but none of the alpha’s at the table had taken any heed.

“Ignore them, they’re just overprotective idiots.” Triss had grinned, knocking her knee against Jaskier’s under the table. “Alpha’s, you know how they are.” Triss had winked and Jaskier had laughed because he did know, at least he knew what the alpha’s of Kaer Morhen where like: kind, fierce and very overprotective. 

“Does this mean I get out of my punishment?” Ciri jumped into a seat opposite Jaskier grabbing a piece of bread and eating it in a very unladylike manner.

“No.” Yennefer answered for Jaskier, turning violet eyes on Jaskier as if daring him to contradict her. Jaskier valued his life so he wisely remained silent, though he and Ciri exchanged a smirk across the table.

As breakfast carried on, Jaskier felt less like he was an observer and more as if he was apart of it. He contributed to the conversations, laughing and gesturing in wild ridiculous ways that had Ciri giggled, Yennefer rolling her eyes and Geralt staring at him fondly.

It was like he’d been given a new lease of life. A life he was readily grabbing with both hands and running away with.

..........

The rest of the week Jaskier went in the same way. It was like a blur, an amazing wonderful blur as Jaskier spent his days interacting more and more with the inhabitants of Kaer Morhen. Every morning he would eat breakfast in the great hall, talking with the Witchers at the table, or with Yennefer and Triss. 

Then he would go to the potions room and help Triss there or head to the tower room and practice his lute. One morning he had even volunteered to assist Vesemir in the kitchen, much to the old wolfs surprise. In fairness, Jaskier didn’t think he’d be welcome in the kitchen again after the mess he’d made of making bread, though he’d managed to crack a smile out of the otherwise gruff old wolf so that was at least something. 

“You’re meant to put the flour in the bread buttercup, not on yourself.” Lambert had shouted as he came into the kitchen covered in sweat from his laps to grab something to eat. Vesemir had disappeared for a few moments to grab herbs out of the cupboard, leaving Jaskier alone in the kitchen.

“Off.” Jaskier had laughed, slapping Lambert’s hands away when Lambert had gone to touch his freshly made...maybe not bread, more slab? He’d frozen on instinct as he waited for the punishment that came from attacking an alpha, but Lambert had just snorted, grabbing a handful of flour and flicking it at Jaskier’s face. 

“Oh, this means war.” jaskier had laughed, grabbing his own handful of flour and throwing it at Lambert.

Vesemir hadn’t been amused when he’d come back in to find the kitchen covered in flour and one very white alpha and a giggling equally white omega. “Unruly pups.” Vesemir had growled as he kicked the two of them out, both still laughing long and loud. Jaskier hadn’t missed the smile that passed over Vesemir’s face though.

The morning he had helped Triss in the potions room had gone significantly better. Triss had praised Jaskier for being a quick learner and a strong stomach. “Two very important things when dealing with Witcher potions.” She had declared grinning as something slimy in Jaskier’s face.

“Good thing I have a strong stomach then.” Jaskier grinned.

..........

Jaskier still trained with the knife, though now he did it outside in the training yards. Lambert and Aidan timed it so they practiced in an afternoon, after lunch. “One way to get out of chores.” Aidan had gleefully pointed out, though Jaskier knew they were only doing it then so Jaskier wouldn’t have to be surrounded by 300 hot sweaty Witchers as they to trained.

Though that didn’t mean the grounds were entirely empty. Geralt was present at nearly all of them, except when Yennefer or Vesemir dragged the white wolf grumbling to ‘deal with warlord shit’ as Lambert put it. Ciri to was present a lot of the time, usually with a number of other Witchers all watching and shouting out their own ideas.

“Aim for the legs.” Letho shouted one particular morning from where he and Aukes were leaning against a tree.

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s going for your right side.” Aukes added helpfully as Lambert fainted left.

“You know that’s not helpful.” Eskel had pointed out as they watched Jaskier, distracted by Letho and Aukes shouting be disarmed by Lambert. Eskel sighed in annoyance, walking into the middle of the training ground and shooing Lambert away.

Jaskier had stood hesitantly in front of Eskel, falling into the stance Lambert had taught him. Eskel had hummed in approval, eyes surveying Jaskier’s stance and making comments to adjust as needed. When Jaskier was in a stance Eskel was pleased with Eskel had nodded, stepping back.

“You’re small, and quick.” Eskel had stated, falling back into a crouch. “Use that to your advantage.” 

As it turned it Eskel was the best teacher of all of them. He as patient and constructive in his criticism. Granted Jaskier had yet to disarm Eskel, or any of the Witchers but he would have honestly been surprised if he’d ever be able to do that.

........

Ciri spent a few hours each day with Jaskier in the library, completing her punishment though Jaskier honestly didn’t think it could be called that. Those hours were spent with Ciri listening raptly as Jaskier talked her through the specific points of eleven poetry, or helped her understand a particularly difficult section from one of the very old history books.

Yennefer had walked in on them one afternoon, seeing the two bent over an old eleven scroll. Jaskier was walking Ciri through what some of the words meant and when he’d seen the violet eyed sorceress walk in every part of him had tensed, ready to be belittled.

After all, what business did an omega have in an education; the words of every alpha that had found Jaskier reading in Tretegor’s vast library had said before snatching the book from Jaskier’s hand, usually following with a quick slap across the face.

Except Yenenfer had just looked mildly impressed, a vast compliment Jaskier was learning when it came to Yennefer. “Where did you learn elder speech?” Yenenfer has asked and Jaskier had blushed, Ciri’s emerald eyes fixed on jaskier equally curious.

“I learnt it from my tutors before I presented and after...I always liked eleven poetry so I kept learning.” Yennefer had hummed, looking at Jaskier intently for a moment before asking, “Can you speak it?”

“Not very well.” Jaskier admitted. He’d never had cause to learn to speak it, having never known any elves to speak it to.

Yennefer had nodded. “Then you and Ciri can spend an hour every day learning. Ciri needs practice with punctuation and you can help her with understanding the written word a bit better than you already do.” Ciri had beamed, grinning madly while Jaskier had just stared at Yenenfer in disbelief. Yennefer just smirked as she turned on her heel and walked back out.

..........

And every night Jaskier slept. Not just slept, but slept soundly and the sleep was well resting. Wrapped in the warm, protective arms of Geralt; Jaskier felt all the worries and fears his mind conjured in the darkness melt away. Geralt was a calming influence every night, his heart beat steady as Jaskier curled against his chest, breathing sighs of relief and contentment.

........

Not everything had changed. Jaskier still had pains. The cold especially had his back aching and making his movements stiffer than he’d like. The first time Geralt had noticed, Jaskier had honestly thought the Witcher was going to march down to Tretegor and tear Vizimir in two.

Jaskier had placed a hand on Geralt’s shoulder, body tensing at touching an angry alpha even as Jaskier’s mind knew Geralt would never hurt him. And as he’d squeezed Geralt’s arms softly, Geralt had seemed to melt. He’d turned around and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, Jaskier pressed solidly into Geralt’s chest as Geralt had buried his nose into Jaskier’s hair and breathed deeply, all the anger running from his body.

“I’m sorry I can’t fix it.” Geralt had whispered and Jaskier had just chuckle softly into Geralt’s chest, own arms tightening around Geralt.

“You are.” jaskier whispered, burying his own face into Geralt’s neck. “You’re fixing all of it.”

........

Every day Geralt would walk up buckets of water for Jaskier to bathe in. It was one of the few things that still made jaskier curl into himself, stomach filling with shame that he still couldn’t feel comfortable enough to go to the hot springs and bathe there.

“It’s ok.” Geralt would whisper each time he finished warming the water with Igni, wrapping arms around Jaskier and pulling the omega’s back to settle against his chest. “Don’t push yourself.”

“I just want to be better.” jaskier would whisper, eyes filling with tears of frustration. “Why can’t I just be better?”

“You are.” Geralt would promise, kissing Jaskier on the side f his neck as he buried his face there. jaskier would melt into the feeling as Geralt scented him softly, his scent surrounding him and filling him with peace and easing the tension and shame he’d been feeling. “And one day you won’t even think about it.”

“You really think so?” Jaskier breathed, turning to face Geralt.

“I know so.” Geralt promised, resting his lips onto Geralt’s and kissing Jaskier tenderly.

...........

It all cumulated at breakfast a little over a week after Jaskier and Geralt’s first kiss. 

“Play tonight.” Ciri announced, interrupting the intense discussion Jaskier, Triss and Yenenfer had been having about the latest fashion choices of the nobility in Temeria. 

“What?” Jaskier had asked, voice unsure as his heart clenched. Geralt’s hand found his under the table and squeezed softly.

“Your lute.” Ciri said, rolling her eyes as if Jaskier was being ridiculous. “Play for us. The Witchers would love the music. Won’t you?” Ciri said, elbowing lambert so hard the Witcher choked on the meat he’d been eating.

Lambert swallowed down the meat before turning to Jaskier. “Yeah, sure we would.”

“Ciri...I don’t know.” Jaskier admitted, voice turning small. The only meals he had with the Witchers was at breakfast, and occasionally lunch when Geralt dragged him from wherever he had settled to play his lute or the library. He hadn’t been in the same room as every Witcher in Kaer Morhen since the one morning he’d attended the training in the great hall, when he’d run out after Ciri’s words. The thought of playing in front of a room full of alpha’s sent dread filling his heart, after all being the centre of attention to a room full of alphas had always been a notoriously bad idea. Except...another part, a small but slowly growing part of Jaskier preened at the idea. The idea of playing to a room full of eager listeners, to be the bard he’d always wanted to be.

“Think about it.” Vesemir, the voice of reason, stated before Ciri could try and argue further. “You don’t have to say yes now.” 

“Ok.” Jaskier had hesitantly agreed.

Which had led him to now, that night standing in his rooms dressed in the blue doublet with red and yellow flowers patterning it. “You don’t have to.” Geralt growled, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s stomach and pulling him close.

The anxiety Jaskier had been feeling lessened as he let Geralt’s calming scent wash over him. “I...I want to.” Jaskier said. He’d thought about it all day. Spent most of the day just pacing the tower room with his lute in hand, tuning it absentminded as he went through every reason why he shouldn’t play.

And there were millions of reasons: what if the Witchers hated his singing, what if he sang the wrong songs, what if he offended one of them, what if the scent of omega so glaringly obvious in the room made the Witchers lose their control and attack him. What if so many things.

But there was one reason why he should, one very good reason that had thrown away every doubt and every bit of anxiety Jaskier felt. What if he didn’t? Jaskier had spent his whole childhood dreaming of being a bard, of travelling the world and living through adventures, singing to crowds both big and small, and rowdy and sophisticated. What if this was his one change, the one chance he ever got in his entire life to be a bard. Would he let his doubts destroy that, would he let just another part of himself be ripped away just because he was afraid?

“I need to do this.” Jaskier whispered, turning to face Geralt’s amber eyes. “And you’ll be right there.” Jaskier smiled, aware it probably looked as brittle as it felt. Geralt only frowned, jamming as he hugged Jaskier closer.

“If that’s what you want.” Geralt said and Jaskier stepped back, picking up his lute and swinging it over his shoulder.

“This is what I want.” jaskier had promised.

..........

He almost regretted his decision the minute he walked into the great hall. The scent of alpha was strong, stronger than Jaskier had ever smelt it in Kaer Morhen. He froze at the doorway, hand clutching at his lute strap as his heart beat painfully in his chest. he couldn’t do this, he just couldn’t.

And then Geralt had placed a hand on the small of Jaskier’s back and Jaskier’s whole body had seemed to take a deep breath in. The smell of oak surrounded him and Jaskier let himself lean into the warmth of Geralt’s side for a moment before confidentially walking into the great hall. He could do this, and he would.

Jaskier didn’t eat much the whole dinner. He was aware of not only Geralt but every person at the table watching him with worried eyes as the tension and anxiety built and settled in his stomach. He felt a little sick if he was honest. He’d been playing with the food in front of him for what felt like hours, all the time wishing he hadn’t agreed to this.

“You can still say no.” Geralt’s voice, quiet as he pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s temple. Jaskier didn’t answer, afraid if he opened his mouth he might actually be sick.

“How about just for us?” Ciri turned emerald eyes on Jaskier, worry clear in them and Jaskier felt his heart clench for worrying Ciri. “You don’t have to sing for everyone, just us. or me if you want?”

“I...” Jaskier started before trailing off, not knowing what he actually wanted to say.

“Yeah, these idiots won’t shut up for ages yet anyway.” Lambert grinned, Eskel nodding in agreement beside him.

“What...what would you like?” Jaskier asked, voice rough and hesitant.

“Something with love in it.” Triss said, eyes turning a little dreamy as she smiled at Jaskier.

Lambert mock vomited. “Just nothing to lovey dovey or Merigold here might get the wrong idea.” Triss glared at lambert even as Eskel snorted into his drink.

“How about something with an adventure in it.” Ciri said, voice filling with excitement.

“As long as it’s not uncouth.” Yennefer stated.

“Or sad.” Eskel added.

“Oh, ok.” jaskier said, mind whirling over the songs he knew before settling on an old classic he’d learn when still a boy at Lettenhove.

He took his lute out, his hands which had been starting to tremble minutely settled as he placed them on the strings. He stood up, aware the general noise of 300 Witchers had disappeared, leaving the hall in silence. His heart beat faster in his chest, anxiety clawing at him as his hands began to tremble once more.

And then he dropped his eyes to Geralt, who smiled encouragingly. His gaze ran over the table, before settling on the excited grin on Ciri’s face. He found his hands stop trembling, the anxiety clogging his throat disappearing. Ciri had said sing to her, Jaskier had sung for Ciri more times than he could count now. He closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the room full of Witchers and pretending that he was back in his rooms with Ciri dancing around the floor as Jaskier sang her a joyful, playful song.

And then he began to play.

..........

Geralt had never properly heard Jaskier play before. He’d heard his singing and the lute filter down the corridors, or through closed doors as Jaskier had played for Ciri. He’d heard Jaskier tune the lute and even listened as Jaskier worked through a few chords. But he had never properly seen or heard Jaskier play.

It was like a transformation happening before his very eyes.

As the song played its course and Jaskier quickly switched into the next one, Jaskier seemed to shine. There was the sound of tables being scraped to the side of the halls as Witchers began to dance and join in on the chorus of Jaskier’s songs. Ciri jumped down to dance with the Witchers, laughing and grinning wildly as Letho twirled her across the room into Gerd’s arms.

Vesemir took Triss’ hand and took her down to the floor as he led her in a dance, Eskel doing the same for Yennefer. As Jaskier sang, his voice and music flowing through the great hall, the whole place seemed to transform with Jaskier. The hall became filled with singing, and laughter and dancing. Turning from the dark grey it always was to a warm glowing light. All reflecting from jaskier.

Geralt remained seated, eyes glued on Jaskier as his heart burst with joy and love. jaskier had stepped back from the table, grin lighting up his entire face as his fingers flew over the lute. His blue eyes sparkled as he sang to the Witchers. 

It was like Geralt was looking at a different person all together. Still Jaskier, but at the same time so much more. This, Geralt realised, was the person Jaskier was meant to be.

...........

Jaskier was giddy as he and Geralt went to bed that night. Laughing softly as he clung to Geralt’s side, drunk of his own performance. He’d sang long into the night, until Ciri had started to fall asleep at Geralt’s side, eyes closing even as she dragged them open so she could keep listening; until his own voice had turned scratchy and aching from the hours spent singing. 

It had been perfect. More than perfect. It was the heady rush of a performance that Jaskier had never felt but had always craved. The enjoyment of the crowd fuelling Jaskier’s performance and making him laugh and sing louder than he though possible, voice echoing across the room as the Witchers laughed and danced and sang with him. 

Geralt chuckled as Jaskier collapsed onto the bed, yawning loudly. “Bed.” Geralt hummed, kissing Jaskier softly on the lips. jaskier giggled, hands coming to wrap around Geralt’s neck and pull the alpha down. Geralt let himself be pulled down, lips kissing Jaskier’s as Jaskier’s back hit the mattress. 

Geralt knelt above Jaskier, smiling softly, amber eyes bright and fierce as Jaskier raised his lips to kiss against Geralt. “Thank you.” Jaskier whispered into the kiss. “Thank you for everything.” And Geralt just hummed, smile soft as he kissed Jaskier back.

.............

The night had been perfect. Filled with joy and happiness and love and for once Jaskier had forgotten everything. He’d forgotten the 8 years with Vizimir. Forgotten the abuse, the loss, the despair, the fear. He’d forgotten it all and for the first time in his whole life Jaskier had felt like the person he was meant to be, the bard he was meant to be.

Free and bright and filled with excited joy.

So as Jaskier curled into Geralt, resting on his chin and falling into a calm happy slumber he had felt like everything was perfect.

So when 3 hours laterJaskier had woken in agonising pain, feeling as if his very skin was alight with fire as his mind dipped from horrific memory to horrific memory; he shouldn’t have been surprised.

After all, when had his life ever been less than a tragedy.


	19. Chapter 19

Geralt awoke to something warm and sticky pressed to his chest. Frowning, Geralt tightened his arms around Jaskier as his foggy mind slowly woke. Jaskier had fallen asleep resting on his chest as he did most nights since Geralt and Jaskier’s first kiss. As Geralt’s arms tightened around Jaskier, a pained whimper broke through Geralt’s still sleep addled brain.

Eyes flying open, Geralt looked down at Jaskier, his heart stuttering at the sight that greeted him. Jaskier was curled into Geralt’s side, body shivering and trembling in Geralt’s arms. His eyes were clenched shut, tears dripping down his face onto Geralt’s lap. But that wasn’t what troubled Geralt the most, no that was the heat pouring off Jaskier. Jaskier’s skin was slick with sweat, skin red with fever. 

Geralt leant back so he wasn’t touching Jaskier. Jaskier whimpered softly, body curling into the space Geralt had been and curling into a tight ball. “Jaskier.” Geralt tried, voice soft as he ran a hand through Jaskier’s sweat soaked hair. Jaskier whimpered at the touch, eyes clenching shut and body tightening into a smaller ball.

Fuck, Geralt cursed as he stepped away from the bed. Jaskier whimpered body shivering under the blankets as his body curled tighter. “I’ll be right back.” Geralt said, voice filling with panic as he frantically tried to think of what to do. Jaskier was sick, that much was obvious. His Jaskier was sick and he need help.

Geralt got as far as the door before a quiet pained filled voice filtered back to him. “Please. Please don’t leave me.” Jaskier whimpered. Geralt was at the bed in mere moments, knees banging on the stone flooring as a hand came to card through Jaskier’s damp hair. Jaskier’s eyes blinked at him sluggishly, blue eyes fever bright as he stared right through Geralt. “I don’t want to be alone.” Jaskier whispered, tears streaming down his face and Geralt’s heart broke, thinking of all the times Jaskier had been forced to be alone with no comfort as pain raced through him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Geralt promised. “I’m right here.” Jaskier hummed, eyes closing as his body shivered again. Except Geralt didn’t know what to do to stop the obvious pain Jaskier was in. Jaskier needed help, he needed Yennefer and Triss. Except Geralt had promised not to leave him. Which only left one option.

Geralt stood, earning a pained whimper from Jaskier whose eyes cracked open. “I’m right here.” Geralt promised, voice taking on edge of hysteria as Jaskier’s eyes blinked sluggishly at him. “But you need help Jask.”

“Hurts.” Jaskier agreed, eyes slipping closed and staying there. Geralt gently peeled back the covers Jaskier was curled in, Jaskier whining at the loss of them as he curled his knees further into his chest, shivering against the cold air.

Geralt’s eyes travelled unbid to the skin exposed by Jaskier’s sweat soaked chemise slipping down. Jaskier’s shoulder was bared to the room, the mating mark visible and Geralt swore as he took in the sight. It was red, not the red it always was, but the red that would have made Geralt think it was infected if he didn’t know Jaskier had gotten the mark 8 years ago. The skin around the mark was dark, angry irritated red. The scars of Vizimir’s teeth a ghostly white, standing stark against the red and purple skin around the mark. It looked bruised, bruised and infected and extremely painful.

Geralt hesitantly placed his hand on the mark, withdrawing his hand with a hiss as his skin made contact with the blazing mark. His fingers felt like they’d been scalded. Jaskier just whimpered, eyes scrunching harder together as his whole body shivered.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt whispered, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s head as he wrapped arms underneath Jaskier’s knees. Jaskier whimpered as pain thrashed through him, curling tightly into Geralt’s chest as Geralt lifted him.

Jaskier’s head rested against Geralt’s chest, whole body shivering and letting off a dangerous level of heat. “It’ll be ok.” Geralt whispered, burying his face into Jaskier’s head for a moment before walking them out of the room.

Jaskier had gained weight since arriving in Kaer Morhen but he was still painfully light in Geralt’s arms. Geralt was painfully reminded how Jaskier had lived for 8 years as he felt the lightness of the omega in his hand. Jaskier had been here nearly 2 months, no time at all. Certainly no time to gain the weight or muscle back from 8 years of near starvation.

“Fuck.” Aukes growled as Geralt nearly stumbled into Letho and Aukes. Both Witchers were unsteady, the scent of white gull heavy in the air around them. Geralt blinked, eyes drifting to nearest window. It was still dark outside, dawn hours away yet. It was hard to believe only a few hours ago Jaskier had been dancing and singing, looking every bit the bard he should always have been.

“What happened?” Letho growled, fists clenching and the merriment of the white gull disappearing to show steely anger in his eyes. Aukes mirrored Letho, both ready to murder whoever had hurt Jaskier. A part of Geralt felt warmth fill him at the protectiveness in the Witcher’s faces. They would protect Jaskier as well as Geralt would. But the bigger part of Geralt only had room for worry and concern as Jaskier whimpered, twitching in Geralt’s arms.

“Send Triss to Yennefer’s rooms.” Geralt just growled, shoving past the two Witchers as he stalked towards Yennefer’s rooms. He just hoped the two sorceresses could help his Jaskier.

…………..

No sooner had Geralt banged on the door to Yennefer’s chambers than he was throwing the door open. Yennefer was just on her feet, gown thrown over herself to cover her nakedness underneath. He violet eyes shone with anger until her eyes fell on Jaskier. Seeing the way Jaskier was curled into Geralt’s chest, whimpering and shivering in Geralt’s arms, heat pouring off him, softened Yennefer in a way Geralt had only ever seen Ciri soften her.

“On the bed.” Yennefer stated, voice all business as she pulled back her silken sheets. Geralt gently placed Jaskier onto the soft mattress, Jaskier murmuring something that might have been a thank you even as he curled in on himself.

“What happened?” Yennefer’s voice was tense, a hardness there even as she placed a gentle hand onto Jaskier’s forehead. Chaos filled the air and a frown etched itself between Yennefer’s eyebrows.

“I don’t know.” Geralt was on his knees again, hand stroking through Jaskier’s hair. He didn’t know if the way Jaskier leaned into the touch was his imagination or the trembles wracking Jaskier’s lithe body pushing him into Geralt’s hand. “He just woke up like this.” Geralt turned desperate amber eyes to Yennefer who was still frowning.

“It’s not his heat.” She stated, eyes narrowing as she surveyed down Jaskier’s shivering body. Her eyes settled on the mating mark. Without a word to Geralt she was stalking away, pulling out a quill and scribbling onto a piece of parchment left on her desk.

Geralt watched her with panicked eyes as she finished the list and threw open the door, only to reveal Eskel standing there fist raised as if to knock. Eskel looked a little shocked to see the door open on him but Yennefer didn’t blink as she pushed the paper into his hand. “Go to the potion room, bring up what’s on that list. Exactly what’s on that list.” Eskel just nodded, turning on his heel and stalking back down the corridor.

Yennefer was just about to close the door when Triss pushed her way inside. Yenenfer hummed, slamming the door as Triss sat herself on the edge of the bed, hand coming to run down Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier whimpered but otherwise showed no knowledge that Triss was even there.

Triss’ wild brown hair was wilder than usual, brown eyes clouded with worry and determination. She like Yenenfer was dressed in a slip on gown, obviously having been asleep before coming here. “It’s his mating mark.” Yennefer’s voice was soft, directed solely at Triss as if Geralt wasn’t in the room. “I don’t know what caused it but his body’s rejecting it.”

Triss nodded, hand squeezing Jaskier’s shoulder gently. “Did you send for the potions?”

“Yes.” Yennefer confirmed, a hand coming to push a stray lock from Jaskier’s hair. “But it’s not ready Triss, it still needs another week to set.”

“Jaskier doesn’t have time to wait.” Triss said, an edge in her voice. Geralt’s heart thudded painfully, not understanding what Triss and Yennefer were saying but understanding the implication of those words. Jaskier couldn’t wait a week. Jaskier going to die.

“What’s wrong with him?” Geralt said, not recognising his voice so clogged with fear and panic.

“We need to cool him down” was all Triss said as Yennefer nodded, disappearing from the room with a bowl. “Geralt, we need to get him undressed.” 

“Please Triss.” Geralt pleaded, needing to know what was wrong. If he knew what was wrong he could help.

“Undressed.” Triss glared at Geralt. Defeated, Geralt gently lifted Jaskier into a seated position so Triss could lift his chemise. Jaskier moaned at the movement but otherwise remained limp in Geralt’s arms. 

“When an omega is forced into a bond with an alpha they didn’t chose, it’s dangerous.” Triss started as she sweat soaked chemise from Jaskier’s head and threw it aside. Geralt’s hands resting around Jaskier’s waist settled on the scarring there, making Geralt feel sick. His thumb slid over the scarring at Jaskier’s side, trailing a long scar all the way from his hip up to his shoulder blade. “There body rejects it. Like an infection, it leaves the omega in the throes of a deadly fever. Legs now.”

Geralt nodded, gently lying Jaskier onto the bed. Jaskier mumbled something to soft for even Geralt’s Witcher hearing to pick out the words. Geralt gently helped Triss work Jaskier’s pants down, everting his eyes so as to give Jaskier a modicum of privacy. “It can last days, sometimes weeks.” Triss continued, throwing a thin sheet over Jaskier’s groin as she moved to peel his legs from the soft sleep pants Jaskier wore in bed. “And most omega’s die from it. If they survive they’re never the same, subdued, subservient to the alpha who made the bond. The minds way of coping with a bond they didn’t want.”

Geralt’s heart broke at the thought of that pain, Jaskier’s pain of being bonded to an alpha he’d never wanted. “But I’ve never seen this happen 8 years after the bond was first made.” Triss’ words were edged with worry as she pulled Jaskier’s pants and threw them to land with the sweat soaked chemise.

“It’s Geralt.” Yennefer’s voice startled Geralt from where he was stroking Jaskier’s hair gently. She held a bowl of water and a cloth which she dipped into the water before handing the cloth to Jaskier. “You need to keep him cool.” Yenenfer said.

Geralt took the cloth, gently wiping Jaskier’s sweat soaked brow with the cool liquid. Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open, blue eyes staring but unseeing. “I would never hurt him.” Geralt whispered, heart breaking as Jaskier’s eyes tracked some unseeing object before drifting closed once more.

“And you didn’t.” Triss said, voice firm. 

“But what you and Jaskier have,” Yennefer hesitated, eyes drifting from Geralt to settle on Jaskier, a small smile turning her lips before she turned back to Geralt. “He loves you Geralt.” Geralt’s heart twisted at Yennefer’s words. Jaskier loved him? Him, a Witcher, a man no better than a monster. “And that’s what caused his body to reject the make Vizimir made.”

“Fix it.” Geralt pleaded, amber eyes dropping to where Jaskier’s face was scrunched in pain.

A soft knock on the door had Triss standing to answer it but Geralt didn’t pay any heed, just continued looking at Jaskier, gently dabbing his sweat soaked forehead with the cloth. “We will everything in our power.” Yennefer promised.

Both sorceresses disappeared from the bed over to Yennefer’s table. Geralt heard the clang of potion bottles knocking against each other, smelt the acidy scent of potions filling the air and felt the familiar tingle of chaos but he wasn’t paying that any heed. All his focus was on Jaskier. Jaskier had opened his blue eyes again and smiled softly at Geralt. 

“You’re going to be ok.” Geralt promised, tears stinging in his amber eyes.

“I trust you.” Jaskier whispered, eyes fluttering closed again. Geralt’s heart seized at those words. How could Jaskier trust anyone after what had been done to him? How could Jaskier love anyone after the pain that he had suffered? How could he ever forgive Geralt for causing him this pain.

“Jaskier.” Yennefer’s voice was firm as she settled on the edge of the bed, hand coming to run a hand through his hair. Triss was still working at the table. Jaskier mumbled something but his eyes remained closed, body limp. His breaths were coming out in ragged harsh gasps that made Geralt’s heart ache on every breath took.

“This might kill him.” Yennefer’s voice was painfilled as she looked at Jaskier. “The potions not fully mature and even if it was…it’s dangerous.” 

Geralt remembered the words Jaskier had whispered to him, filled with anger and desperation when Geralt had first told him of the possibility of getting rid of the mark. Jaskier didn’t care what it would cost him. He wanted to be free, to not belong to an alpha he didn’t want. “I can’t live like this anymore.” Jaskier had whispered

“Do it.” Geralt growled heart breaking into a thousand pieces as he realised he might have just signed Jaskier’s death warrant. But what did it matter, Jaskier was dying anyway and at least this way he might stand a chance.

“Sit him up.” Yennefer said, moving to help Triss. Geralt grunted, gently wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist. As gently as he could he sat himself onto the bed, arms wrapped around his omega, Jaskier’s sweat soaked back pressed into Geralt’s chest, soaking through Geralt’s own chemise. 

Jaskier’s blue eyes blinked a little, fever bright but Geralt saw recognition there as Jaskier smiled softly at him. “mmm trust you.” Jaskier whispered, head coming to rest against Geralt’s neck. The words cut into Geralt’s heart like ice shards.

Triss passed Geralt the potion, a dark green liquid with a strong odour coming from it. “I love you.” Geralt whispered burying his face into Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier might have mumbled ‘I love you too’ but the words were so quiet Geralt honestly didn’t know if he was just making them up.

Gently he rested the bottle against Jaskier’s lips before tipping it back. Jaskier moaned at the taste but he drank the full contents of the potion under Geralt’s gentle guidance. Geralt’s heart twisted at the knowledge that Jaskier was only doing that because he trusted Geralt. Geralt didn’t deserve that trust.

For long moments nothing happened. Geralt feared that it hadn’t work and he was going to lose his Jaskier regardless when Jaskier started to shift restlessly in his arms. Soft whimpers and moans broke through Jaskier’s lips. “Geralt, lie him down.” Geralt didn’t want to but he knew Yennefer knew best so as gently as he could he climbed off the bed and settled Jaskier’s head onto the cushions.

No sooner had Jaskier been lain down was his omega’s body seizing. Only Yennefer’s hand hard with chaos buzzing under it kept him from moving as Jaskier’s body seized and withered. Jaskier’s mouth was open in a silent scream, eyes open but blue eyes rolled back so only the whites were visible. Triss was crying openly, Yennefer standing firm and stoic even as he violet eyes blazed with pain. Under Yennefer’s chaos Geralt was forced to stand and watch as Jaskier’s body seized violently.

What had they done?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The beginning of this chapter explores Jaskier's time with Vizimir so there is mention of rape, injury, miscarriages and Jaskier being physically mistreated in this chapter. If you aren't comfortable, please do NOT read.

Jaskier remembered feeling happy, happy and nervous. It was the kind of verves that filled your stomach with butterflies as anticipation thrummed through you. It wasn’t the life he wanted, not even close to it, but he was excited none the less. And Jaskier was sure once his parents had left Tretegor he could persuade his new husband to provide him with a new lute and perhaps, given time, he could persuade him to let Jaskier go to Oxenfurt and study. After all, Oxenfurt was in Redania, King Vizimir’s realm.

He’d known King Vizimir 3 weeks. They’d spent barely anytime together except for a few words exchanged and Vizimir’s hands around his waist as he twirled Jaskier on the dance floor. But Jaskier had never felt such anticipation before in his 16 years of life when King Vizimir came to him and asked his hand in partnership.

The King already had a Queen Hedwig, a beta woman of a regal beauty that matched her husbands own regal power. Jaskier had been in awe of the 2 since setting foot in Tretegor with his parents, the fact he was going to be a part of that marriage filled Jaskier with a thrill of excitement. It wasn’t unheard of alphas to take an omega when their betas were barren, or simply when the omega fit. Jaskier had heard tales of those unions being strong and loving.

Jaskier stood in front of the full length mirror, heart hammering as he surveyed himself. As custom for omegas given over to an alpha he wore a long white dress and was bare footed. The dress had been given to him by Queen Hedwig, the night of Vizimir’s proposal. It was beautiful. Pure white, long and flowing coming to pool in waves of silk around Jaskier’s bared feet. The coreset type bodice had been laced tight by the servants who had been sent to dress him, giving the allusion of Jaskier’s already slim waist being even thinner, hips appearing wide. The lace of the coreset was a bale sky blue, trailing down the back of the dress as the only design to it. Jaskier’s face had been made up with rogue smeared onto his lips, a black powder painted across his eye lids. His hair was wavy down his back, a flower crown of wildflowers Jaskier had picked himself the day before settled on the tip of his head. The veil was currently flowing down his back, white laced pattern work making it the most intricate part of the outfit. Looking in the mirror Jaskier didn’t recognise himself.

His Father met him at the entrance to the grand hall. He was wearing an ornate dark green doublet and for the first time in Jaskier’s life his Father was smiling. “You’ve done us proud boy.” He grunted, taking the veil and moving it to cover Jaskier’s face. Jaskier smiled behind the veil, heart hammering as he took his Father’s elbow. He’d never made his Father proud. All he’d been told his whole life was how much of a disappointment he was. Now his Father was proud.

Jaskier felt like he was gliding down the aisle, a smile spread wide on his face as his Father placed his hand in King Vizimir’s. Vizimir smiled warmly at him, grasping Jaskier’s hand firmly in his own. He’d been a picture, the sort of alpha that any omega would dream of. Strong and handsome, powerful and warm. Jaskier felt his heart seize with love for his soon to be alpha.

The ceremony was short and simple, over in what felt like a heartbeat. When the final words were said, King Vizimir lifted the veil before pressing his lips softly against Jaskier’s. The kiss had been chaste but to Jaskier who had only kissed a handful of times it felt like the world froze for just a moment.

Everything after that was a blur. Jaskier’s arm remained linked in Vizimir’s as they moved to the great hall. A lavish feast had been set out, King Vizimir pulling the chair out for Jaskier to sit in. It wasn’t the first time Jaskier had dined in Tretegor so when the plates were served and his own was empty he wasn’t overly concerned. He’d never gone hungry in these 3 weeks, King Vizimir himself walking to his table a few times to place the left overs of his own dinner into Jaskier’s. So Jaskier waited patiently for the same to happen again. Except it didn’t.

As the food was cleared away, still half full and Jaskier still hadn’t eaten he opened his mouth and turned to his new alpha, only for Vizimir to ignore him and take Queen Hedwig’s hand for the first dance. Jaskier was left abandoned at the high table as the guests and nobles danced, King Vizimir dancing with everyone at court save the omega he had just taken in marriage. Jaskier’s eyes searched out his parents but neither his Father or Mother looked up at him even once. His Father was engrossed in discussions with noblemen, his Mother giggling and laughing with the noblewomen of court. 

By the time King Vizimir returned to the table, the colour of the night had utterly faded. Jaskier was exhausted, the corset dug harshly into his waist and he was hungry. Above all though, he just wanted to go to bed. King Vizimir picked up his glass, using a knife to clang against it and gain the guests attentions. All eyes drifted to Vizimir and in turn Jaskier who sat a little straighter in his seat under so many gazes.

“Distinguished guests, I believe the activities of the night have led us to the most important part. If you would please escort my omega to the bedchamber.” A group of court ladies, lead by Queen Hedwig appeared at the table, grabbing Jaskier’s hands and pulling him up. Jaskier blushed a deep shade of red. He was still a virgin, the idea of sex still new and a little terrifying to him. He’d hoped King Vizimir would ignore the usual tradition of the court ladies and gentlemen getting the married couple disrobed and into the bedchamber. But Jaskier forced himself to smile even as his heart thrummed in his chest. He wouldn’t embarrass himself.

What he didn’t expect though was Queen Hedwig to take a knife from the table and use it to rip through the intricate ribbons of the lace dress. Jaskier squeaked, hands coming to grasp at the dress only to be gripped down by the ladies who were no giggling in their excitement. Jaskier was pulled along, the beautiful lace dress slipping from his body with nothing to hold it up. Face red with shame and embarrassment Jaskier was lead from the room naked save for the crown of flowers still sitting on his head.

“Get in position.” Vizimir’s voice was harsh as the door was slammed shut, leaving Jaskier standing naked in front of the King, still fully dressed.

“I…I…”Jaskier stuttered, and then staggered as a sharp back hand across his cheek left him reeling and collapsing to the floor.

“Are you stupid omega. On the bed, hands and knees. Present yourself to me.” Jaskier sobbed, tears running down his face as he made his way onto the bed. “I said present yourself. Let me see that hole.” Vizimir growled, hand coming to slap harshly across Jaskier’s arse. Jaskier cried out, body trying to escape the hit but that only made Vizimir more angry.

A hand took a fistful of Jaskier’s hair, flowers falling onto the bed around Jaskier’s head as Vizimir shook his harshly. “You are my omega and you will do as I tell you. Now present.” And what could Jaskier do but as he was told. Sobbing, he spread his arse with his hands trembling as he did so. Vizimir hummed, climbing onto the bed behind Jaskier.

Jaskier expected some sort of preparation. He’d been told by one of the older servants in Lettenhove of her first time with the stable boy. How he had made love to her under the stars and how the world had seemed to flash in technicolour under his hands. This didn’t feel like that. Vizimir breached Jaskier in a few thrusts, grunting as he tore a path through Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier cried out, losing his grip on his arse and falling onto his elbows. Vizimir just growled, as he bottomed out.

And then he started to thrust, pounding Jaskier into the mattress. His knees gave out, leaving him trapped under the weight of the King as Vizimir growled above him. Sharp teeth bit into the join between Jaskier’s neck and shoulder, right were the mating bond would soon go. Jaskier closed his eyes, whimpering as blood dropped from the mark down onto his chest, lower body numb as Vizimir continued to pound into him.

And then something big and bulbous was pushing inside him and Jaskier cried out. Vizimir’s knot penetrated him and grew, locking them together. Jaskier felt sick as liquid filled his insides, making his stomach strain. He just wanted it to stop, why wouldn’t it stop.

It felt like an age as he waited for Vizimir’s knot to die down. Vizimir lay on top of him the whole time, crushing him into the mattress, occasionally grinding his hips and making Jaskier whimper in response. When he finally pulled out something wet came out with him, leaking down onto Jaskier’s thighs. Jaskier sobbed, pain throbbing down there.

“You sleep on the floor omega.” Vizimir’s voice growled, the only warning Jaskier got before hands pushed him to the floor.

“I want to go home.” Jaskier sobbed, body curling in on itself as Vizimir kicked him sharply in the back. 

“You are mine omega.” Vizimir growled, hand wrapping firmly in Jaskier’s hair and using it to pull him up. Jaskier whimpered in pain as he was pulled upwards, meeting dark angry eyes that had once held warmth and kindness. This was the real Vizimir Jaskier slowly realised. A dangerous, cruel, harsh man. “You are mine to breed, mine to fuck when I please. You will obey me.” Vizimir shook Jaskier’s head violently at his words. “And you will bare my children and provide me with further heirs.”

“My parents…” Jaskier tired but Vizimir just laughed, throwing Jaskier to the ground.

“Your parents are leaving the city, with a large bag of money as payment for you. They won’t be back.” Jaskier sobbed, shaking his head in disbelief. “And come your heat I will mark you properly and fuck a child into you.” Vizimir growled, kicking at Jaskier harshly. “Now back on the bed.” 

Jaskier shook his head, climbing onto unsteady feet. The floor was covered in drops of white cum and bright red blood. The sight made Jaskier feel sick. “On the bed or you’ll get 30 lashes.” Vizimir growled.

“No.” Jaskier shouted, running for the door only to find it locked. A hand wrapping in his hair made him cry, struggling to get away as Vizimir dragged him back to the bed. “Please, I don’t want this.” Jaskier cried, struggling as Vizimir took a rope and used it to tie Jaskier’s hands behind his back.

“What you want is irrelevant.” Vizimir growled, bodily shoving Jaskier so his face was buried into the mattress. Jaskier sobbed, body trying to buck the weight of Vizimir as he climbed onto his back. “You are an omega, your only want is to please me.” Jaskier blacked out as Vizimir breached him once more.

When it came to it was to hands dragging him up onto his knees. His hands were still tied behind his back and his backside and groin hurt and throbbed angrily. Blood and cum stained his thighs, tears his face. There were bruises on his hips and Jaskier’s whole body was stiff after spending the night on the cold hard ground where Vizimir had thrown him when he was done with him.

“30 lashes.” Vizimir commanded the guards, glaring at Jaskier before picking up an ornate gold collar. Jaskier struggled against the guards hold as Vizimir fastened the collar around his neck, locking it tight so it dug into the skin of his neck. “Make it 40.”

Jaskier was dragged between the guards through the castle, still naked. He struggled as they tied him to a post out in the gardens. A few people murmured as they looked on and Jaskier yelled, begging them to help him but they just turned their faces away. The first lash fell down, feeling like fire slicing through Jaskier’s back. And then another and another and another.

As the last lash fell and the guards walked away, leaving Jaskier tied to the post, arms tied above his head the only thing holding him up as blood dripped down his back, flaring agony through his entire body, Jaskier realised how stupidly naïve he had been. 

…………..

Jaskier watched the memories flash through him as if he were trapped. He watched his first heat with Vizimir, felt the same pain and fear and despair run through him as he was tied to a bed to spend 3 days suffering through Vizimir’s rut. He remembered the pain of the mating mark, how he had lain for 2 weeks after as fever raged through him, his body fighting against the unwanted mark.

He remembered his first pregnancy, finding out only a month after his first heat. He remembered the fear that had clawed his heart as he cried himself to sleep that night, one hand resting on his stomach where a baby grew. He remembered slowly growing to love that child. Remembered the nights curled on the floor of Vizimir’s room, gently rubbing his hand over his protruding stomach gently humming to his baby as Vizimir slept above him.

He remembered the hit that had made him lose his child. Remembered how he hadn’t even done anything wrong, Vizimir simply kicking him to wake him up one morning, the kick hard as it always was but landing on Jaskier’s pregnant belly rather than his arm or legs or back. He remembered how pain had racketed through him, how blood had stained the floor beneath him as his baby, only 3 months into its life inside him, died. 

Jaskier remembered the Kings rage, blaming Jaskier. How he had ordered Jaskier tied to the post and 100 lashes to be given to him. Jaskier remembered feeling like he was going to die, his heart shattered into a million pieces as agony raced through him. He remembered wanting to die and when 4 days later when he’d woken in his cold damp room in Tretegor alive and aching how he’d cried and shouted and screamed in pain and agony.

And he remembered how it all happened again and again and again as the days and weeks and months went on. He remembered his heats, spent tied to that bed with Vizimir rutting into him. He remembered the few times his heat had come early, Jaskier dragged bodily from where he was run to hide by the closest alphas, brought into rut by Jaskier’s heat. He remembered being passed between those alphas, rutted and raped even as he screamed for it to stop.

He remembered Vizimir’s anger. Anger at the smallest thing, anger for Jaskier simply existing. Remembered the casual hits or kicks if Jaskier dared disobey him. He remembered being forced to sit naked at Vizimir’s feet when the King felt Jaskier needed to be reminded of where his place was, as if Jaskier would ever forget. 

He remembered his children. Every loss, every miscarriage. Every loss like a new stab through the heart, how he hadn’t known someone could feel such loss and despair as he felt another child fall away, never to live any sort of life.

Jaskier just wanted it to stop. He couldn’t live through it all again. Wasn’t it bad enough that he had been forced to endure it once but now his mind was playing every moment of those 8 years in hell over and over again, reminding Jaskier of his pain and loss and despair. He couldn’t bare it. He just couldn’t.

“It will get better.” The voice filtered into Jaskier’s mind, the memory of King Vizimir’s son ordering the guards to hold a pregnant Jaskier down as he punched his belly over and over again disappearing.

Jaskier blinked as the images dispersed into something new. Of a cold day outside a large looming castle, forests spreading around him for miles and a pair of amber eyes piercing into him. Jaskier pressed against a warm chest, arms wrapped around him, offering comfort and warmth.

“How?” Jaskier found himself asking, mind still playing catch up as the assault of memories turned into a moment of calmness. He didn’t understand it but he felt safe, wrapped in this strange alphas arms.

“I’ll find a way.” That voice was fading, the memory fading and Jaskier tried to grasp it, to make it real. “If I have to kill that bastard with my bare hands, I’ll make it better for you. Whatever it take.” The voice slipped through Jaskier’s fingers like water.

“Please.” Jaskier screamed into the darkness that followed. “Come back, please.” Jaskier fell to his knees, tears dripping down his face as his heart shattered heart broke. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone.” The voice echoed around Jaskier, filling the blackness and Jaskier’s whole being. A voice he recognised, a voice he trusted. A voice he loved. “I’m right here Jaskier. I’m not going anywhere.”

Geralt.

………….

It had been 3 days. 3 long hard days. They’d kept Jaskier in Yennefer’s rooms, no one wanting to move him as he battled through the fever that raged his entire body every moment of the day. No one had been allowed in the room save Yennefer and Triss. Geralt himself wouldn’t leave Jaskier’s side except for the most basic of needs.

Even when he’d heard Ciri’s voice at the door, tears clear in her voice as she begged them to let her in to see Jaskier Geralt had remained at his Jaskier’s side. He spent his days running a cold cloth over Jaskier’s heated skin, trying to cool him. When needed he would gently lift Jaskier’s shivering body into his arms as Yennefer and Triss diligently changed the sweat soaked sheets underneath Jaskier. Geralt would drip water onto Jaskier’s dried and cracked lips. Vesemir had dropped a book of elven poetry with Triss, saying he’d seen Jaskier reading it in the library. Geralt had taken to reading to reading it to his omega as Jaskier slept.

But nothing was working. Jaskier remained unchanged for 3 days. Fever stricken, body thrashing under the thin blanket as he fought off invisible forces. He moaned and whimpered, something screaming in pain in a way that made Geralt’s heart bleed. 

“You’re not alone.” Geralt would repeat, stroking back Jaskier’s sweat soaked hair tears dripping down his face. “I’m right here Jaskier. I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t know if the words made it to Jaskier’s subconscious but he had to try. He had to try and remind his omega that he wasn’t along. Jaskier never deserved to be alone again.

It was at sunset on the third day that Jaskier’s condition began to change. The heat that was pouring from Jaskier’s skin disappeared. Jaskier’s body shivered, not the shivers of a fever but a true shiver as if from the coldness of the room. Yennefer had been in the room and she was the one to react, Geralt just staring dumbfounded at the sudden disappearance of the fever.

Glancing over Jaskier’s body, Geralt noted the mating mark faded. No longer the infected red it had been for the last 3 days, not even the angry red it had been when Geralt had first met him, but faded. It was still red, but now it was the faint red that you go around a newly healed scar. Yennefer threw a large fur over Jaskier’s body. She placed a hand on his forehead and the lines that had creased her forehead for days disappeared, a relieved smile taking her place.

“The fevers gone.” Geralt near sobbed at her words, taking Jaskier’s limp hand in his and clenching it softly. “He’d going to be alright Geralt. He’s going to be ok.” And Geralt felt cried then, tears of pure relief.

…………….

Jaskier came aware of the soft bed underneath him first, warm furs wrapped around him. His hand was held in a firm grip of someone else’s, warm and calloused from years of swordplay. Jaskier’s eyes were gummy, sticking together as Jaskier tried to open them. It took more effort than he though and as he opened and then blinked he thought he might not be able to close them again.

But he forced himself to open them, eyes settling on a head of white hair resting on the mattress. “Ger’” Jaskier started before a cough racked his aching throat. Geralt moved with a start, amber eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at Jaskier. Jaskier’s eyes closed, throat an aching mass of pain as he tired to ask for water but only a croak came out.

Geralt was up and moving across the room in an instant. Before Jaskier could even register him disappearing he was back, a mug of cold water being pressed to Jaskier’s lips. Jaskier took a long gulp, sighing softly as the coolness refreshed his aching throat. “Drink slowly.” Geralt murmured, a hand hesitantly coming to stroke through Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier nodded, doing as Geralt asked and drinking the remainder of the cup in slow gulps.

“I…” Jaskier started, pausing to cough as his throat worked around the strange feeling of words.

“Don’t speak.” Geralt whispered, hand grasping Jaskier’s as he placed the cup on the floor beside the bed. “Just rest.”

But Jaskier wanted to say this. He needed to say it. He didn’t know what had happened while he was trapped in the never ending swirl of torment created by his own mind, but he woken feeling strange. Like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt light, almost free. And his heart sung at the sight of Geralt, his Geralt.

“I…”Jaskier coughed before continuing, “Love…you.” Geralt’s amber eyes were filled with love and tenderness as he bent his head to bury it in Jaskier’s chest.

“I love you too.” Geralt responded.

Jaskier hummed, eyes drifting shut as exhaustion filled him. Forcing his eyes open, Jaskier forced himself to croak. “Hol’ me.” His words were slurred with tiredness but Geralt obviously understood as the next moment the bed was dipping and Jaskier was being lifted into strong warm arms.

Jaskier was settled in between Geralt’s legs, head resting on Geralt’s stomach as Geralt ran a hand through his hair. Humming in contentment, Jaskier let his eyes drop close into sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write as I wasn’t sure where I was going with it but I hope you all enjoy anyway

“Fuck.” Geralt growled, tightening his grip around Jaskier’s waist as his omega stumbled. Jaskier had been awake less than a day, most of that time spent exhausted and curled up on the bed in Geralt’s arms sleeping and recovering from his ordeal.

When Jaskier had said he wanted to move around, to at least move back to his own rooms and give Yennefer hers back, Geralt had flat out refused. Jaskier was still recovering, movements shaky and weak. But Jaskier had looked at him with determination and flatly told Geralt if he didn’t help then he’d just do it himself and well, what was Geralt supposed to any to that.

It left Geralt helping lift Jaskier from the bed, Jaskier’s shaking legs barely locking as he leant into Geralt. Geralt had an arm wrapped tightly around Jaskier, all to aware without him being there Jaskier would likely collapse to the ground. He’d been ready to push Jaskier back into the bed when Jaskier had forced his legs to lock and started to walk across the room. Geralt could smell the determination in Jaskier’s flowery scent. Jaskier needed to do this. And if he fell, that was what Geralt was there for. What Geralt would always be there for.

“Need to rest?” Geralt grunted as Jaskier leant heavily into Geralt’s side, eyes closed and breaths coming out in audible gasps.

“Please.” Jaskier managed letting Geralt gently rest Jaskier against a wall. Geralt frowned down at him, worry spiking through his heart as he saw how pale Jaskier was. Fuck, only a day ago had Geralt thought he was going to lose Jaskier.

“We should go back.” Geralt growled. Jaskier lifted blue eyes to look at Geralt with a frown.

“Why?” Jaskier asked, pushing himself away from the wall. Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist to stop Jaskier toppling forward.

“Because you can barely stand.” Geralt growled. Jaskier huffed what might have been a laugh as he rested his head against Geralt’s chest.

“I’ve walked in worst pain.” And those words made Geralt stiffen, heart aching as he thought of an injured Jaskier limping down the hall with no one to help him. “Hey,” Jaskier’s soft voice ran through Geralt’s head, a finger running under Geralt’s chin to force Geralt to look into blue eyes. “But I‘m fine now.”

“You almost died.” Geralt growled, emotion clogging his throat as his forehead dropped to rest against Jaskier’s. “Fuck, I almost lost you.”

“But you didn’t.” Jaskier’s voice was calm. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” Jaskier smiled softly, easing some of the fear clenching Geralt’s heart.

Geralt hummed, wrapping an arm around Jaskier’s waist to pull his omega closer. Jaskier went willingly, side resting against Geralt’s as they continued down the corridor in slow movements. The corridors of Kaer Morhen were long stone warrens, narrow steps and uneven flooring covering most of the keep making their walk all the more slower for it.

When they had to stop for the forth time on their short walk back to the rooms, Jaskier gasping for breath, eyes closed and face near translucent Geralt felt his heart seize. He remembered Jaskier in those days of the fever, thrashing and screaming in his sleep, trapped in whatever nightmares his mind conjured up.

“Jaskier.” Ciri’s voice echoed down the corridor, breaking Geralt from his pain filled thoughts as she ran towards them. Eskel and Lambert were behind her, both walking more slowly eyes fixed on Jaskier.

Jaskier smiled softly as he let himself fall down onto the floor so when Ciri launched herself at him he was already on his knees and could wrap his arms around Ciri in a proper hug. “I was so scared.” Ciri admitted, quietly.

Jaskier lifted eyes to meet Geralt’s, pain in those blue depths as he tightened his arms around Ciri. “It’s ok now.” Jaskier promised, “It’s all ok now.”

Eskel and Lambert came to stand next to Geralt, Lambert clapping a hand on Geralt’s shoulder as he looked down at where Jaskier and Ciri were hugging. “Had us all worried for a while there buttercup.” Lambert grunted.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier said, voice quiet as he looked up at them from behind the frizz of Ciri’s wild blonde hair.

“Don’t be.” Eskel said, squeezing Geralt’s shoulder as he looked at Jaskier. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s those bastards in Redania.” Ciri’s face was buried in Jaskier’s shoulder and Geralt found himself growling as Jaskier’s blue eyes took on a haunted look.

“Enough.” Geralt glared at Lambert but Lambert the thick headed idiot wasn’t listening.

“Think when the snows melt we should head down there and show them what Witcher justice is.” Lambert grinned, obviously depicting the rest of them to agree. But Geralt knew how much it affected Ciri when the Witchers left for war, how she cried herself to sleep most nights and barely ate (or so Vesemir reported) in worry for not just Geralt it all the Witchers. And the haunted look in Jaskier’s blue eyes told Geralt all he needed to know.

“No.” Geralt growled, for once hoping his brother would listen to his words, but Lambert had never been one to listen. Especially when he knew he was right.

“Like fuck no. Look what those fuckers did to your mate.” Lambert yelled, pointing at Jaskier who had gone very still.

Geralt just stared at Lambert, anger boiling in him even as his heart stuttered at those words. his mate. The other Witchers saw Jaskier as his, as Geralt’s. It sent one part of hm purring in rightness and pleasure, while the other felt panic and fear run through him. What if that wasn’t what Jaskier wanted, fuck how could it be what Jaskier wanted. He’d just gotten rid of unwanted bond and now the Witchers wanted him to bond with Geralt. Fuck.

“Lambert, leave it.” Eskel’s voice firm as he levelled Lambert a look that clearly said shut the fuck up. lambert, for once actually listened, or rather he saw the tension in Jaskier’s whole body where he was still hugging, or rather holding Ciri for dear life. “Come on Ciri, we’ve got training.”

“But...”. Ciri tried as Eskel placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to pull her away from Jaskier.

“It’s ok.” Jaskier smiled at her, though there was an uncertain edge to it now. “We can talk later.”

Ciri looked at Jaskier firmly before nodding her head in confirmation that Jaskier was telling the truth and walked away. And all Geralt could do was stand and stare at Jaskier, his mate kneeling on the floor. And why the fuck did those words have to send a thrill of warmth through his heart.

.................

“A little help?” Jaskier tried for a laugh but he could hear how weak those words sounded even to himself as he looked at Geralt. Geralt hummed, glaring at the floor as he took hold of Jaskier’s hand and helped Jaskier onto unsteady feet. His arm snaked around Jaskier’s waist, holding Jaskier up but the warmth and comfort of that gesture was gone now, leaving only uncertainty and coldness.

Jaskier tried to put some distance between them but his tired uncooperative limbs protested even the slightest movement and he was forced to lean heavily into Geralt’s side to walk. Your mate. Lambert caulked Jaskier Geralt’s mate. And a part of Jaskier wanted that, fuck he already felt like he was Geralt’s, as Geralt was his except...mate. it was a loaded word, a word jaskier had for the last 8 years associated with pain and torment. He’d been Vizimir’s mate, his bonded omega and look what had happened to him

Jaskier knew Geralt wasn’t Vizimir. No, Geralt was a kind loving sweet man who Jaskier loved with all his heart...except...except Jaskier had only just escaped one bond, barely with his life if the way Geralt had been looking at him since he awoke was anything to go by. The thought of being tied down to anyone again so soon, to be bonded to another alpha ever again...it left Jaskier feeling sick to his stomach.

All he had ever felt from the bond was pain and anguish. He’d felt weighed down in the knowledge that he wasn’t his own person, that he belonged body and soul to a man that would abuse and hurt him on a whim. And no matter how much he knew Geralt would never harm him like that he still couldn’t think of himself being tied so deeply to another person. He couldn’t imagine being in that much pain again. Not when he’d only just won his freedom.

..............

Geralt felt concern clench his heart as he gently helped Jaskier onto the bed. Jaskier was exhausted, face turned pale and heavy bags under his eyes. And he was silent, eyes downcast in the way they had been those first few weeks in the Witchers company. Geralt felt irrational anger run through him at Lambert. jaskier had just been getting better and then that idiot had to ruin it. 

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier voice was quiet, eyes still downcast, hands in his lap twisting together. “I...I love you.” Jaskier forced his eyes upwards to meet Geralt’s. His blue eyes were shining with tears. “I just...”. jaskier words trailed off but Geralt didn’t need him to say it for him to fill in the blanks.

“I understand.” Geralt said, gently taking Jaskier’s hands from where they’d been twisting in his lap in his own. Jaskier turned blue eyes to his, hands limp in Geralt’s own.

“You don’t.” Jaskier whispered, body leaning into Geralt’s side. “It’s not...I...I love you.” Jaskier whispered, a tear slipping free as he dropped his head to look at his lap. “I do.”

“I know.” Geralt said, hearing the struggle in Jaskier’s words. He squeezed Jaskier’s hands softly in one hand as his other wiped the tear from Jaskier’s cheek. “You’re not ready.” 

“What if I never am?” Jaskier’s voice was near lost in the air as more tears fell from his face. Geralt growled, hating to see the man he loved with tears in his eye. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier, pulling him so Jaskier’s head was resting on Geralt’s chest. 

“Then it doesn’t matter.” Geralt promised, rubbing reassuring circles down Jaskier’s back. “I love you and you me and right now that’s all that matters.”

“But...” Jaskier tried, face looking up at Geralt but Geralt stopped his words with a soft kiss on his lips.

“No but.” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s lips. “If this is all I can have, then I will be the happiest man in the world.” Jaskier giggled into his lips.

“I thought I was meant to be the bard here.” Jaskier grinned. Geralt huffed a small laugh as he rested his forehead on Jaskier’s. “I really do love you Geralt.” Geralt hummed his agreement, pulling them to to the head of the bed and letting Jaskier settle himself against Geralt’s side.

As Jaskier’s breath evened out into sleep Geralt couldn’t help but tighten his hold around his omega. His. Jaskier was his. They didn’t need a bond to show it and if Jaskier never wanted to be named Geralt’s mate then so be it, but Geralt couldn’t deny how he felt. Jaskier was his mate, and they belonged together.


	22. Chapter 22

“I need a bath.” Jaskier declared as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching Geralt pile their breakfast dishes onto the side. it had been 2 days since he’d woken up and he hadn’t washed since the fever had hit. His whole body felt dirty and sweaty and he knew he must stink even though Geralt didn’t seem to mind when he buried his head in Jaskier’s greasy hair.

“I’ll get the Witchers to bring up some water.” Geralt hummed. Jaskier had been bed ridden for the last 2 days, his exertion from Yennefer’s rooms to his own taken more out of him than he was willing to admit. But now he felt a need to move, be active, free burning underneath his skin. He needed to live.

“No.” Jaskier stated, voice firm even as Geralt turned to look at him with a frown on his face. Those amber eyes though were soft, filled with love and affection, more so than ever before. Jaskier felt himself blush from the look, even as he forced his gaze to stay level with Geralt. There was something heated that gaze, something that made ever bone in Jaskier’s body keen to be held and claimed by Geralt, even as a darker part of his mind cowered away in fear from that look.

“I want to go down to the hot springs.” Jaskier announced, ducking his head as Geralt moved closer and the blaze in those amber eyes intensified. Mate, the words spoken by Lambert had been haunting Jaskier since they’d been spoke but he resolutely pushed them aside.

“You’re sure?” Geralt’s voice was hesitant and jaskier understood why. The hot springs where a large area underneath Kaer Morhen used by the inhabitants for daily washes. 

“I...” Jaskier paused, mind trying to find the right words to describe the feelings he was suddenly feeling. “I finally feel free, so please let me be free.”

And all Geralt could do to answer that was hum.

..........

“They’re beautiful.” Jaskier breathed as he walked into the large cavernous room. There were a few large pool spread out across the room, all letting off hot steam. The stone walls glistened in condensation, the room lit by tiny lanterns scattered everywhere giving the room a magical feeling.

Geralt hummed, stepping closer to Jaskier and resting a hand gently on Jaskier’s back. Jaskier felt himself lean into the touch. “I can wait outside.” Geralt hummed. Jaskier knew that Geralt really meant stay guard and keep anyone from entering the room while Jaskier was in here. The hot springs were blissfully empty, it being the middle of the afternoon and most of the Witchers washed in the morning after training. 

“Stay.” Jaskier forced himself to say. “You need a bath as well.” Jaskier turned to look at Geralt, grinning as he said, “Even Ciri thinks it.” Geralt growled at that, remembering the way Ciri had curled up her nose in mock distress when she had visited yesterday.

“You don’t need to push yourself.” Geralt hummed, arms wrapping around Jaskier and pulling him close. Jaskier knew Geralt was right, knew that they could leave and Geralt could organise a bath brought up to his room like he had so many times before. Except Jaskier needed to do this, he needed to prove to himself there was a way back to a normal life after everything.

“Don’t look.” Jaskier asked softly, stepping away from Geralt and turning around. Geralt hummed arms moving from around jaskier reluctantly.

Jaskier listened as Geralt stripped, placing his clothes on a rack so they didn’t get wet. Jaskier’s heart beat fast in his chest as he listened to Geralt’s padded footsteps on the wet stone. When was the last time he’d been around a naked alpha. His last day in Redania, bent over Vizimir’s bed being raped his mind helpfully answered him. Jaskier shivered at the memory, fear spiking even as he forced himself to relax. This was Geralt, Geralt couldn’t hurt him.

“Jask?” Geralt’s voice was filled with worry.

“You’re not looking.” Jaskier forced himself to say through gritted teeth.

“I promise.” Geralt replied, the sound of water splashing as Geralt turned around confirming his words.

Jaskier forced himself to breath deeply as shaking hands first unbuttoned his doublet before moving to remove his chemise and then breeches and small clothes. Standing naked in the hot springs, Jaskier had never felt more vulnerable. Every part of him screamed at him to run as the scent of alpha drifted to him. It wasn’t safe, being here naked with an alpha wasn’t safe.

Except this was Geralt, Jaskier’s mind reminded him calming his racing heart and forcing him to move a step further. The scent of wood filled Jaskier as Jaskier’s feet led him to the side of the first pool. Geralt was safe. ‘Your mate.’ Lambert’s words filtered through Jaskier’s mind nearly breaking Jaskier’s calmness but Jaskier forced those words away. He wasn’t Geralt’s, Geralt hadn’t claimed him, Geralt hadn’t forced him. Geralt loved him.

Jaskier let his legs swing into the water, a deep sigh filling him as the heat of the water ran through him. A huff of laughter had Jaskier lifting his gaze to Geralt. Geralt was standing a few meters away, back turned so as to not look at Jaskier. His back was a ripple of muscle, scars lining the skin, some deep gauges others thin lines. Jaskier’s eyes trailed to where Geralt’s hips dipped into the water, at the muscle there. 

Jaskier didn’t even realise he had walked over to Geralt until his hand came to trail a nasty scar from Geralt’s shoulder blade down his back. “Griffin.” Geralt’s voice was rough as Jaskier’s finger trailed the scar. “Caught me on my blindside.”

“It must have hurt.” Jaskier’s voice was low, his own thoughts remembering the pain and agony of a whip stripping across his back. Geralt’s shoulders shrugged underneath Jaskier’s hands.

“It’s the life of a Witcher.” Geralt grumbled, making Jaskier’s heart ache powerfully.

“No one should be hurt just because of who they are.” Geralt hummed at Jaskier’s words. Jaskier let his hand drop into the water, eyes travelling to a bar of soap near the edge of the bath. “Can I...can I wash your hair?” Jaskier whispered, voice unsure and heart beating rapidly.

Geralt answered by sinking further into the water, back still turned to Jaskier as he rumbled a quiet, “Yes.”

........

Jaskier’s hands were soothing as they massaged Geralt’s scalp. Geralt felt himself relaxing in a way he never had before, body turning to putty under Jaskier’s slight ministrations. As Jaskier rubbed the soap into his hair he began to hum softly under his breath. The scent of the lavender soap mixed with Jaskier’s own flowery scent sending Geralt into a dose. 

As Jaskier hands scooped water over Geralt’s hair, rinsing the soap from it, Geralt felt Jaskier’s hands trail down his back. He remained still, not wanting to frighten Jaskier’s tentative touches by moving to quickly so instead let Jaskier’s hands explore the map of scars on his back. No one had every touched those scars, other than those who touched him to heal. The touch of Jaskier’s own hands on his scars felt intimate in a way Geralt had never felt before. Like he was loved, like he was someone special.

“You’re turn?” Geralt hoped his voice didn’t come across forceful as Jaskier’s tender touches disappeared and his whole body went rigid. Even turned away from Jaskier as he was Geralt could imagine the uncertainty in Jaskier’s eyes. “I’ll stop the minute you ask.” Geralt promised and he didn’t know if it was that or Jaskier’s new found need to prove to himself he was free that made Jaskier mumble a quiet yes and turn around.

Geralt waited until the splash of water had faded before lifting himself from the water and turning to look at Jaskier. Turning the first thing Geralt saw was the map work of scars that made up Jaskier’s back. He felt the irrational anger fill him as it always did when he thought of the man that had caused those scars but he also felt pride fill him at the sight. These were the signs of his omegas triumph, signs of how brave Jaskier had been to not only survive the last 8 years but to still be free after it all.

Geralt gently ran a hand down one of the worst scars. A jagged whip mark that trailed from the base of Jaskier’s spin to curl over his shoulder. Jaskier tensed under his fingers, flowery scent turning sour as Geralt gently traced the scar. “Beautiful.” Geralt murmured, moving to trail a scar that wrapped across Jaskier’s back and wrapped around his hip.

“No they’re not.” Jaskier’s voice was coloured with shame, making Geralt’s heart clench in response.

“Each scar is a victory.” Geralt murmured. “A sign that they never broke you.” Jaskier hand went unbid to the bonding scar. It had faded drastically in the last few days, going from the infected red it had been at the start of it all, all the way to a faint pink tinge. Triss had said in a few months it would be like it had never been there.

“I never thought of it like that.” Jaskier admitted, voice quiet as Geralt grabbed the lavender scented soap and began to lather it into Jaskier’s own hair. Geralt hummed quietly, enjoying the way Jaskier’s whole body relaxed under his fingertips. The scent of dandelions and buttercups once more filled the room, making Geralt hum contently.

“It felt like being smothered.” Jaskier’s voice seemed to echo around the room as Geralt gently worked the soap into his hair. “Like I could barely breath, like something was pushing me down.”

“And now?” Geralt murmured.

“Now...now I feel like I’m flying. Like I could do anything.” Jaskier hesitated for a moment, body tensing slightly before relaxing under Geralt’s fingers. “It scares me.”

“Don’t be.” Geralt murmured, gently scooping water over Jaskier’s hair. “You’re not alone in this.”

....................

Jaskier didn’t reply to those words, eyes closed as he let the soothing feel of Geralt’s fingers running over his scalp rush over him. Once he was done, Geralt moved once more to running his fingers over the scar lining Jaskier’s back. Jaskier felt his body tense for a moment before he remembered Geralt’s words. Every scar was a victory. A hallow victory if Jaskier remembered the pain and the loss and the suffering perhaps, but a victory none the less.

“Can I turn around?” jaskier whispered, heart hammering in his chest as Geralt’s hands paused where they’d been trailing a line down Jaskier’s spine. 

“Of course.” Geralt murmured, hands moving from Jaskier’s back. Jaskier nodded, heart pounding as he forced his suddenly tensed body to move.

A strong hand at the base of his spine made Jaskier relax as he waded in the water to turn to look at Geralt. Geralt was chest deep in the water, only the top of his chest and neck visible as Jaskier turned. A light flush ran over Jaskier’s cheeks as he glanced down into the almost clear water to see there legs near brushing. Geralt himself kept his gaze fixed on Jaskier’s face, amber eyes heated in the way they had been before.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Jaskier whispered, voice wavering on the words as Geralt’s gaze softened. “Like...like you want to...to...claim me.” The words were stuck on Jaskier’s tongue, fear clogging his throat as his heart raced.

Geralt’s amber eyes filled with guilt as a Geralt took a hesitant step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...fuck...I...”. Geralt growled, standing in the water and revealing more of his chest as he ran a hand through wet hair. “Fuck, Jask...I’ve never felt this way before and I...I’ll leave you alone. I won’t come near you.”

“What?” Jaskier’s words were hinged with panic as he grabbed hold of Geralt’s hand. He knew if Geralt chose he could tear his hand from Jaskier’s grip easily but Geralt froze under Jaskier’s touch. “I...I don’t want you to go.”

“Even if I frighten you.” Geralt whispered and Jaskier grabbed Jaskier’s arm to pull him back into the water. Geralt came body filled with tension, gaze dipped to avoid looking at jaskier. 

“You want to claim me?” Jaskier whispered, heart hammering at those words. Geralt hummed a silent confirmation of those words. Jaskier forced himself to stay put rather than flinch away like his body wanted him to.

“But I would never.” Geralt whispered, amber eyes filled with panic as he gently ran a hand over Jaskier’s shoulder. “I would never do that to you.”

“But you see me as...yours?” Jaskier whispered and Geralt closed his eyes, his silence enough confirmation for Jaskier.

Silence reigned for a while as neither omega or alpha looked at each other until Geralt faintly spoke. “Your my omega.” Geralt growled voice fierce as he stared at Jaskier with blazing amber eyes. “But...if you asked me to leave, if you asked me to never be near you again I would.”

“Your omega?” Jaskier whispered, heart clenching at the words. Vizimir had called him his, had taunted Jaskier and said he had no purpose but to be what Vizimir wanted. But Jaskier knew Geralt and he knew that wasn’t what Geralt meant when he said it. “What...what does that mean?” Jaskier whispered and Geralt blinked, confusion in his eyes as he very obviously tried to think of the words.

“It means...it means I’ll always protect you.” Geralt growled, words coming out in jolted sentences even as his amber eyes blazed. “That I’ll ways be here for you. That...that I love you.” Geralt gently took Jaskier’s hands in his and squeezed them softly. “It means I will never push you, that I’ll never make you feel uncomfortable or force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“Yours.” Jaskier whispered, the possessive word taking on a new meaning and making Jaskier’s mind reel.

“And I am yours.” Geralt growled, voice firm as Jaskier looked at him in surprise. “You may be my omega Jask, but I am your alpha.”

“My alpha?” Jaskier whispered, the words feeling right as he trailed a hand down Geralt’s jaw. But even as he did so his heart clenched and he dropped his hand back into the water. “I can’t...Geralt I don’t think I can be bonded again. It...it hurt to much.” Tears stung at Jaskier’s eyes as the reminder of that ever constant pain filled him.

“I’m not asking you to.” Geralt murmured, gathering Jaskier into his arms. Their legs entwined under the water, Jaskier resting his head on Geralt’s bared shoulder as his whole body trembled. “I’m not asking you to do anything Jask. I’ll never ask you to do anything.”

“My alpha.” jaskier murmured, running a hand down Geralt’s chest. 

“My omega.” Geralt replied and Jaskier found himself smiling softly. 

This wasn’t like Vizimir where Jaskier had been a slave in all it name. No, Geralt wasn’t claiming him to own him, Geralt was claiming him to live him just as Jaskier was claiming Geralt as his. And despite the fears still lingering in Jaskier’s mind, it felt right.


	23. Chapter 23

Nearly a month later and the change in Jaskier was obvious to them all. Gone was the timid omega, tensing at the slightest thing as he waited for a hit that never came. Gone was the fear that had followed Jaskier around like a cloud. This, Geralt imagined, was the man Jaskier had always been meant to be. They’d caught a glimpse of it the night Jaskier performed to the Witchers for the first time but this was so much more than that.

Jaskier was a ball of energetic energy, bouncing down the halls of Kaer Morhen with a smile on his face. As the month passed Jaskier’s confidence only seemed to grow and grow and now you could barely move around Kaer Morhen without hearing the sound of Jaskier’s voice echoing through the halls. Whether in song, or discussion with a Witcher or the few days Jaskier had taken to whistling down the corridor until Lambert had accused the ‘annoying bloody bard’ as he had now dubbed the omega of ‘trying to break my fucking hearing with that high pitched fucking whining’ Geralt had expected that to be the thing that pushed Jaskier back to the frightened timid omega he’d been before, even Lambert had tensed regret instant on his features, as they waited for Jaskier to flinch and grow silent. But instead Jaskier had just dramatically held a hand over his heart and announced, “his talent was far beyond that of a whine.”

That had broken down the last of the hesitance in the Witchers actions towards jaskier. Taking their guidance from Lambert, the Witchers began to treat Jaskier as if he were one of them. The first time Letho had clapped Jaskier on the back in greeting and Jaskier hadn’t tensed in fear but returned the clap with one of his own, Geralt had felt joy flood him.

When 3 weeks ago, Geralt had found Jaskier and Ciri dripping wet and covered in snow he hadn’t known whether to feel worried that they’d both get sick, exasperated as the two grinned at each other, or annoyed that they’d managed to make what Geralt thought was 2 dozen snowman (with the help Lambert and Aidan who were high giving each other in the background). What he felt instead though that afternoon as Jaskier hugged close to his body to “steal my ridiculously warm alpha’s body heat” as Jaskier put it, was content and happy.

What was perhaps the most frightening discovery of Jaskier’s new found freedom was the razor quick wit that followed it. The only person who seemed to match Jaskier’s quick wit was Yenenfer and even Lambert had bowed away from the two when they began a seemingly never ending trade of insults that had Yenenfer smirking and Jaskier’s eyes lighting up.

There were still bad days, of course. Geralt knew what had happened to Jaskier would haunt him to the end of his life despite how well Jaskier now seemed. While Jaskier slept contently tucked into Geralt’s side, breath soft and even as he nestled against Geralt’s chest, there were still times he woke sobbing and panicked. Those times Geralt would hold Jaskier and gently soothe his omega until Jaskier had calmed down enough to be able to breath evenly. 

There were still times when a Witcher caught Jaskier unawares, a hand on the back making Jaskier’s whole body tense. Jaskier would always brush those moments aside, force his body to intense as he grinned his greetings to the Witcher but Geralt could always see the slight tremble in Jaskier’s body after the encounter.

And while Jaskier slowly became more confident, there were still times when he his himself away whether in the library or the tower room for hours on end, the only sound that of his lute. Those times Geralt forced himself to leave Jaskier be, knowing that as much as he wanted to be there for jaskier all the time, there were still times when Jaskier needed to be alone with his thoughts. When Jaskier returned to Geralt’s side after those few hours, he would always wrap his arms around Geralt; in a long hug, breathing deeply as he let himself be surrounded by the weight of his alpha. Geralt never commented on those moments, simply hugged Jaskier as long as he needed to be held.

..............

“What are you thinking about?” Jaskier grinned as he sat himself down with his lute in front of the fire in the great hall. It was mid afternoon, Geralt sitting with his swords in lap sharpening the already deadly sharp weapons. Jaskier pulled out a notebook and quill which he settled on his knee as he began tuning his lute.

“Nothing.” Geralt murmured, Jaskier looking at him with a disbelieving stare before turning his attention back to his lute.

“I’ve been thinking.” Jaskier started, voice firm though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Abut the reputation of Witchers.” Jaskier had stopped tuning his lute, hands coming to twist uncertainly in his lap. The hall had gone quieter as every Witcher there turned to listen to Jaskier’s words. “I don’t think it’s right that the world fears you as much as they do that they...that they’re scared of you just because you’re a bit different.”

Geralt felt himself tense under Jaskier’s words, heart clenching as he remembered all the times he’d been forced away from a village, all the times he’d been stared at or children had run from his terrified of his amber eyes. “I know you have a reputation to keep up. Big scary Witchers and everything but...” Jaskier hesitated, before forcing himself to continue, “That doesn’t mean the rest of the world can’t see you as what you are.”

“And what are we?” Axel’s vice echoed through the room from where he’d been sitting with Aidan and a few other cat Witchers. 

“We’re monsters bard.” Gerd growled from where he’d been playing gwent with four other bear Witchers. “That’s what we’ve always been.”

“Just because that’s what people think doesn’t make it true.” Jaskier’s voice was firm as he turned to look over the room filled with Witchers. 

“Good luck making people believe that.” Letho snorted, earning grunts of agreements from the other Witchers.

“I will.” Jaskier stated, voice more determined than Geralt had ever heard it. “All you need is someone to tell your side of the story. They’ll be singing the tales of Witchers good deeds by the next winter. I guarantee it.”

“You do that bard and it’ll make you a greater sorcerer than even Yennefer and Triss.” Aidan said, smiling not unkindly at Jaskier.

“Just you wait.” Jaskier promised, hands coming to rest on his lute once more, determination in his eyes.

And as Geralt watched Jaskier’s hands fly over his lute only to pause for a moment to scribble in his notebook, all he could think of was the implications of those words and how they made his heart clench in pain.

.................

Jaskier and Geralt stood outside one of the old rooms deep within the bows of Kaer Morhen. Few people came here, it had been on the rooms previously used by the old sorceress for the Witcher trials before they had been killed by the very Witchers that had created them. Geralt was tense as he stood with his arm around Jaskier’s waist.

Vesemir and Triss were standing by the door, Triss bouncing excitedly and Vesemir’s gaze was fixed on jaskier. “All the Witchers helped with this.” Triss was saying, Jaskier leaning a little further into Geralt’s warm embrace.

“No one comes here, you’ll be left in peace.” Vesemir promised, words calm as he spoke. Geralt found his arm tightening around Jaskier, confusion as to why Vesemir would want Jaskier to be alone. Especially alone in a place as tormented as these rooms. Geralt remembered the screams of the Witchers during their trials, he remembered being one of those Witchers and the agony of the potions that turned him into a Witcher. it was little wonder these rooms were deserted and abandoned. No Witcher would willingly come here.

“Bring whatever you need down here.” Triss was saying, eyes shining. “We weren’t sure what an omega needed during a heat but from the ones I’ve known liked to nest so the Witchers brought down blankets and furs and cushions...”

“Nest.” Jaskier’s head snapped up, Geralt scenting the subtle change in Jaskier’s scent as it went slightly sour around the edges.

“Yes,” Triss said, voice kind as she smiled at Jaskier. “For your heat.”

Fuck, Geralt thought as he felt Jaskier press closer to his side, whole body going tense. Geralt had forgotten Jaskier’s heat. Jaskier had to if the way his breaths came suddenly in uneven gasps, body trembling in Geralt’s arms. “We’ll leave you both.” Vesemir said, giving Triss a pointed look when she went to refuse. “If this doesn’t work we can find somewhere else.” 

Geralt just grunted an answer, more focused on the panicked inhales of Jaskier’s breaths as Triss and Vesemir walked away. He moved so he was in front of Jaskier, pulling his omega into a hug and letting Jaskier bury his head into Geralt’s chest.

“No one will hurt you.” Geralt promised, remembering what Jaskier had told him of his heats. Remembering what Jaskier’s heats had produced and the children jaskier had lost. “You’ll be ok.”

.........

Jaskier just stood body trembling as his heart clenched in abstract fear at the reminder of his impending heat. He’d forgotten, how could he have forgotten. The thought of the heat catching him unawares had Jaskier’s knees buckling and he felt strong arms wrap tighter around him to stop him falling to his knees. All those times his heat had come early, the way every alpha in the vicinity had lost control and took him. How could he have almost put the Witchers, fuck Geralt in that position. He should have made himself plan his heat better, fuck he should have at least made plans to get out into the mountains. He couldn’t be in Kaer Morhen when it happened. The Witchers, they would never forgive themselves no matter how much it wouldn’t be there fault if they hurt him because of Jaskier’s heat.

“No one will hurt you.” Geralt’s voice broke through Jaskier’s spiralling thoughts.

“My heat Geralt.” Jaskier managed to croak, panic flooding through him.

“It doesn’t matter.” Geralt growled, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s temple. “Witchers aren’t human alphas. We don’t go into rut, we won’t hurt you.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault if you did.” Jaskier whispered, Geralt’s arms tightening in response.

“Whoever said that it was your fault is wrong.” Geralt growled, rubbing a soft circle on Jaskier’s back. “Any alpha with any self control would never hurt an omega in heat. And not a single Witcher will ever hurt you, heat or no heat.” Jaskier lifted his eyes to look at Geralt, seeing only sincerity in those amber eyes.

“We can leave if it’s to much.” Geralt murmured as Jaskier’s eyes drifted to the closed door. Jaskier was tempted, half out of fear that if he opened the door he’d find a bed with chains ready to tie Jaskier down for his heat, and half because of how tense Geralt had grown as they’d walked down the deserted corridors.

“Why don’t Witchers come down here?” Jaskier whispered, feeling Geralt tense in his arms.

“It’s is where they made us Witchers.” Geralt growled, pulling jaskier closer and burying his face into Jaskier’s hair.

“You should go.” Jaskier leant back so he could look Geralt’s face properly. “I can manage on my own.” jaskier offered a wavy smile that he hoped would convince Geralt he was telling the truth but Geralt just frowned.

“No, I’m not leaving you alone Jask. I’ll never leave you alone.” And Jaskier felt himself lean further into Geralt’s chest, relief coursing through him from that simple statement.

The door opened with a loud thud, Jaskier noting as the door swung open the heavy lock sitting there, allowing Jaskier to lock himself in. His heart beat faster as he forced himself to look into the room. his heat room in Tretegor had been a depressing space. A single bed where Jaskier was chained spread eagled, ready to be mounted and knotted through his heat. A shiver ran up his spine at the thought.

Except as Jaskier lifted his eyes he didn’t find a bed with chains, rather he found a room filled with every comfort an omega would want. Furs and blankets were folded neatly at one end, ready to make a suitable nest. Two large thick mattresses lined the flooring, more cushions and furs piled on top of this.

Jaskier walked over to the bedding, hands coming to run experimentally over the soft furs. Tears stung his eyes at how soft they were. When was the last time he had soft furs to build a nest. His last heat in Lettenhove, 9 years ago. A arm wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him back into a bulky chest as tears fell down Jaskier’s face.

“I can have a nest?” Jaskier whispered, not fully believing the truth of Triss’ words even as he looked at the evidence of that fact.

“You can.” Geralt whispered, arms resting on Jaskier’s stomach and pulling Jaskier flush with his chest. “Anything you need, anything at all and you’ll have it.”

“Thank you.” jaskier whispered, turning to face Geralt and pulling him into a hug as gratitude and disbelief ran through him. “Thank you.”


	24. Chapter 24

The tension in Kaer Morhen that last 2 weeks had only grown with every day as Jaskier’s heat grew nearer and nearer. Upon being reminded of his impending heat Jaskier had turned in on himself once more. Gone was the confident bard who came down to every meal with his lute slung over his back and a smile on his face. Now every time Jaskier came into the great hall he was subdued and quiet, sitting most of the meal in silence staring at something only he could see.

Every night Jaskier would wake thrashing and panicked from a nightmare that left his shaking and refusing to sleep. Geralt tried to comfort him, be there for his omega but he didn’t know if he was making it worse. Every time Jaskier woke panicked and confused, Geralt would gather Jaskier in his arms and gently try to pull him back to himself but it seemed every night it took longer and longer to pull Jaskier back from those dreams, the nightmares turning into waking ones.

It was hard for them all to see. Ciri though took it the hardest. She was the only one Geralt saw Jaskier really try to act happy around but Ciri could see the brittleness at the edges of his smile and she saw how quiet he was when anyone else was there. A week ago Geralt had found Ciri sobbing in a corner of Kaer Morhen and when he’d asked what was wrong Ciri had launched herself at him and asked him “why wasn’t Jaskier getting any better?” It broke Geralt’s heart because he didn’t know the answer. Or rather, he did know the answer but it wasn’t suitable for Ciri. 

The sound of music that had filled the castle had disappeared as well in the last 2 weeks. Geralt didn’t believe Jaskier had stopped playing, Jaskier’s lute had disappeared from their rooms a few days after Jaskier had been shown the place of his nest and Geralt hadn’t seen it since. He knew Jaskier loved that instrument and suspected Jaskier had hidden it away wherever it was that the omega himself disappeared to in the hours between breakfast and dinner.

It hurt to know Jaskier was hiding from him, from all of them. It was the only explanation as to why no one would see Jaskier for long periods of the day. Geralt suspected Triss, Yennefer and possible Vesemir knew where he was hiding, if the way none of them seemed half as worried as the rest of the keep were by their omegas sudden disappearance. But if they did, none of them would tell Geralt.

“He needs time.” Vesemir told him one afternoon while in the Council Room. And Geralt knew Vesemir was right, Jaskier had been through a lot, was still going through a lot but...he’d thought they had turned a corner. He’d thought, like Ciri, that jaskier was getting better.

“He won’t just get better overnight.” Yennefer had chastised him one lunch when Geralt had been watching the doorway has he always did waiting for Jaskier to reappear. Geralt knew she was right, but the part that hated to see Jaskier suffer wished it wasn’t true, that Jaskier could just be better overnight.

It was Triss who eventually pointed Geralt in the right direction. It was nearing a week to Jaskier’s heat and you could have cut the tension in Kaer Morhen with a knife as the whole keep waited to see what would happen. Geralt had been stalking the corridors with little purpose, though to anyone looking at him it was obvious that he was looking for Jaskier.

“He’s scared Geralt.” Triss had seen Geralt stalking up to the tower room Jaskier usually played in and followed the alpha up. Geralt had frozen, heart pounding because Jaskier shouldn’t be scared, not here, not in Kaer Morhen. “Not of you.” Triss said, placing a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “We only know snippets of what happened to him during his heats but...” here Triss hesitated as she let go off Geralt and stepped back, “He’s in his nest. Just...be gentle with him.”

Geralt had grunted his thanks before stalking his way back down the stairs and to the old abandoned part of Kaer Morhen.

........

Even walking the corridors where young boys had been turned to Witchers had Geralt’s whole body tense and phantom echoes of pain from the mutagens run through him. If not for the sweet scent of dandelions filtering down the corridor Geralt would have turned around and left without looking.

As it was, as Geralt walked down the dark hallways, he wished Jaskier had a better place to nest. He wished it wasn’t necessary to put his mate in such a horrible place as this. But they’d had no choice. To little time to prepare for his heat before winter leaving and to much happening for Geralt to even remember Jaskier’s heat, had left little options.

As Geralt stood in front of the large oaken door leading to the room Jaskier would have his heat, he vowed he’d find a better place for his next one. There were many abandoned tower in Kaer Morhen, abandoned after years of disuse had left it easier for them not to use those towers. When the path opened up again and the days grew warmer, Geralt would have one of those towers restored. The Witchers could fix the leaking roofs, repair the broken windows. They old even build a fire pit in there so the room was warm for Jaskier. 

For now though, Jaskier would have to stay here. Pushing aside his own thoughts, Geralt gently knocked on the door. “Triss?” Jaskier’s voice was small, hesitant and it made Geralt’s heart clench. Jaskier hadn’t been coming down for lunch, disappearing the moment he finished breakfast and only reappeared in time for dinner (if he even appeared then). It stood to reason someone would be bringing him food and water down here, and Triss had known where he was.

Fuck, Geralt should have been the one to come down here. he should have been here taking care of his omega. His refusal to come down these corridors had stopped him from looking in the most obvious place Jaskier would come to hide. His nest. Even Geralt, who knew next to nothing about omegas, knew there nests were sacred places. Places they came to rest and relax and comfort themselves when they were sad or upset or fucking scared. And Jaskier was scared. Underneath the scent of wildflowers Geralt could scent the sorry scent of Jaskier’s fear.

“Geralt?” Jaskier had opened the door without Geralt noticing, to trapped in his own thoughts as his hand was still raised as if to knock. Blue eyes were dimmed as trembling hands came to take Geralt’s upraised fist in hand. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked, concern lacing his tone and fuck, Geralt should be the one comforting not Jaskier. Not his brave omega who Geralt hadn’t even realised was suffering so badly.

“Come in.” Jaskier’s voice was firm as he pulled Geralt inside. Geralt was momentarily frozen as his eyes took in the space. It no longer looked anything like the broken old lavatories they had once been. The broken glasses and tables they had used to tie the boys to as they pumped them with mutagens gone and replaced with lush cushions and furs. It looked as if every fur and blanket in Kaer Morhen as piled into the far corner of the room. Mattresses lined the stone floor giving a plush surface to lie on, cushions surrounding the area and Jaskier had even hung a blanket between to hooks on the wall to create a roof of sorts for his nest.

Geralt’s knees went week at the sight. What was something so beautiful and so lovingly created doing in a place like this. A place where the screams of would be Witchers echoed the halls, where children had died. Fuck.

“It’s ok.” Jaskier whispered, guiding Geralt over to the nest. Jaskier gently guided Geralt into the nest, letting Geralt lie down on the soft furs and mattresses that smelled like Jaskier. Geralt buried his face into one of the cushions, breathing in the heavy scent of wildflowers. “Tell me what’s wrong dear heart.” Jaskier’s voice was soothing, the nest dipping as he settled himself next to Geralt.

Geralt lifted his head t nestle in Jaskier’s lap, Jaskier’s long fingers coming to run through his white hair soothing. “This place.”

“I know.” Jaskier whispered, “Triss told me this was where...where they made you Witchers.” Geralt didn’t answer, memories filtering of a scared little boy being tied to one of those tables, screaming and begging for the pain to stop as the mutagens were pumped into him. “I’m so sorry Geralt. So sorry for all of you. None of you should have had to go through that.”

“I don’t want you to have your heat here.” Geralt growled, hand coming to twist in the fabric of Jaskier’s breeches.

“I know dear heart.” Jaskier’s hands continued their soothing run through of Geralt’s hair. “But there’s no where else.”

“Our rooms.” Geralt growled, lifting his head to gaze fiercely into those blue eyes.

“I can’t.” Jaskier whispered and Geralt growled, lifting himself so he could pull Jaskier close to his chest. Jaskier let himself be pulled, ending up near on Geralt’s lap as the possessive need to get Jaskier away from this horrible place filled Geralt. “Geralt, dear heart, it’s not fair on any of you if I’m too close when I have my heat.” There was pain in Jaskier’s voice as he spoke.

“No one will hurt you.” Geralt growled, reaffirming the words that he’d been telling Jaskier since meeting his omega. “You’re safe here.”

“And I know that.” Jaskier said, smiling softly up at Geralt and trailing a line down his chin. “But it will still be painful for you, for any of you to be close to me during my heat.” Jaskier’s eyes dipped downwards, scent souring as he spoke his next words. “An omegas heat is designed to make us irresistible to any alpha close to us. Even...even this is to close but...”

“I’m not letting you have your heat in the middle of no where.” Geralt interrupted, hand coming to cup Jaskier’s cheek as he looked at sad filled blue eyes. ‘Fuck, Jask...I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” Jaskier admitted, voice almost to quiet for Geralt to hear. But he did, and he heard the fear and loneliness carved in those words. “But you can’t stay. It’s not fair to you Geralt. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Geralt growled, glaring at the space around them. “We can move all this upstairs.” Geralt growled, glaring at the space around them. At the dark stone walls, dark splatters showing the echoes of potions and blood long spilled and stained there. “We should have burnt this place.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier chuckled softly at that. “You’d topple the castle down if you burn its foundations.” Geralt couldn’t help but laugh at that, remembering a similar conversation between Vesemir and Lambert after they had killed the sorcerer’s and put a stop to the creating of new Witchers for good. Lambert had wanted to blow these rooms apart, Vesemir had explained doing so would make them homeless.

“Where do you want to have your heat?” Geralt growled, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s soft hair. 

“Truthfully?” Jaskier asked, voice hesitant as he leant further into Geralt’s chest. Geralt hummed, wrapping warm arms around Jaskier’s chest. “I just don’t want to be alone.” Jaskier’s voice broke on the words and Geralt could smell the salty scent of tears.

“Then I’ll be there.” Geralt growled. “And you can build your nest in our rooms. It’ll be more comfortable.” Away from the scent of death and pain that filled this dark place, Geralt thought privately.

“Like home.” Jaskier whispered and Geralt hummed in answer.

...................

Yennefer was frowning. The Witchers were carrying up the blankets, furs and mattresses from the old rooms; Lambert muttering “I still think we should have blown it up,” as he and Aidan walked past Geralt in the corridor. Ciri had dragged Jaskier to the hot springs to distract the omega from feeling guilt about having the Witchers go into a place they obviously hated being in just for the sake of his own comfort. 

“He’s not having his heat down there.” Geralt growled as he came to stand by Yennefer, already knowing what yennefer was here to stay.

“Have you ever been around an omega in heat.” Yennefer glared back at him, voice harsh as she glared at Geralt.

“I don’t care Yenn.” Geralt growled back because he didn’t. All that mattered was Jaskier was safe and comfortable. “And I’m not leaving him alone.” Yenenfer hissed in a breath, violet eyes blazing in anger.

“You have no idea.” Yennefer snarled. Letho and Aukes, who had been carrying up one of the heavy mattresses between them, hurried up their pace to get past the seething sorceress. “An omegas heat isn’t something you want to be near. There is a reason alphas take their omegas to secluded spots during their heats, even the mated ones.”

“He needs somewhere safe and familiar.” Geralt growled back. “And we can move the Witchers in the rooms near ours out for the duration.”

“You can’t be in that room Geralt.” Yenenfer growled back, refusing to back down but Geralt wasn’t either.

“He doesn’t want to be alone.” Geralt retorted. “And I’m not going to hurt him Yenn.”

“You’ll want to.” Yenenfer growled, violet eyes flashing. “Do you know how much self control you’re going to have to show to stop you from hurting him, from pining him down and raping him just like Vizimir and those other alphas?” Geralt felt his anger rising under Yennefer’s words, fists clenching hard enough to make his nails break skin as he forced himself not to lash out at Yennefer. “I’ve seen alphas go half mad with lust when an omega went into heat a few doors behind them. Every Witcher in this castle will want to take him.”

“And you have so much fucking self control that you won’t either.” Geralt shouted back, Yenenfer physically flinching away from him.

“My womb isn’t the only thing they took in Aretuza.” Yennefer snarled and Geralt felt guilt flood him even as anger still reigned. 

“And our ability to have children wasn’t the only thing they took from us.” Geralt growled.

“There isn’t a Witcher in the world that’s been around an omega in heat.” Yennefer’s voice had lost its edge, violet eyes softening ever so slightly. “You don’t know how you’ll react.”

“I do.” Geralt growled. “I love him Yenn and I will never hurt him.”

“None of us will.” Geralt hadn’t known that Vesemir had been listening tot he conversation until the old wolf walked over to them both. “Jaskier is our pack now, we don’t hurt pack.”

Yennefer looked between the two of them before violet eyes settled firmly on Geralt. “I hope your right. For Jaskier’s sake.”

As Yennefer stalked back down the corridor, Geralt couldn’t help but hope he’d made the right decision.


	25. Chapter 25

Jaskier’s heat came 3 days later.

Jaskier had been feeling a little odd all morning, coming down for breakfast but only half heartedly picking at his food. Geralt had watched him concerned when Jaskier had given up completely on breakfast and said he was going to lie down in his nest. The sudden need to bury under the mound of furs and blankets overtook most of Jaskier’s brain, as it had since he’d found out he was allowed to nest.

The nest was huge, taking up the whole right hand side of their room, leaving on a small pathway on the left hand side for Jaskier and Geralt to get to the door. It was filled with sot furs and mattresses, cushions piled high to provide comfort. More importantly though, it smelt of Geralt. Jaskier let himself wrap into the furs where Geralt had spent the night previous sitting with Jaskier curled into his side as he played his lute. He buried his nose into the cushion Geralt had been sitting on, humming as the scent of Geralt filled him.

He curled further into the furs, his body feeling suddenly very heavy. He was tired. He hadn’t been sleeping well the last few weeks. Memories of his previous heats assaulting every sleeping moment leaving Jaskier exhausted and on edge. Maybe he could cat nap a little, just for a few hours.

Later Jaskier would blame the strange circumstances around this heat on the fact he didn’t recognise the signs earlier. All the heats he remembered where in Tretegor, the 3. He’d had in Lettenhove distance memories that had been buried under years and years of abuse. Every time his heat had come in Tretegor all jaskier had felt was a bone deep fear as he raced to hide himself away, knowing it didn’t matter how hard he hid they always found him eventually.

But this time was different, this time he was safe. he was wrapped in his nest, the scent of his alpha surrounded him. So as Jaskier drifted into sleep he didn’t think his sudden bout of tiredness or lack of appetite as the signs of the beginning of his heat, all he thought was how nice it would be to snuggle in his nest with Geralt’s arms around him.

When jaskier woke a few hours later to the sickly scent of honey surrounding him and something wet and sticky on his thighs, he didn’t understand. His whole body felt like it was on fire, the clothes he was wearing suddenly so restrictive, cock hard and sensitive as it rubbed against his breeches and small clothes, hole dripping out slick. Jaskier’s eyes opened and the world was blurry around him, like he was seeing things through tinted glass. He tried to lift a hand but his whole body felt like it weighed a thousand tonne. 

Groaning, jaskier felt tears slide down his cheeks as muffled sounds filled his ears. Sounds of shouting outside his rooms. Of the door banging open. The scent of aroused alpha filled his nostrils and Jaskier keened, mind screaming for it to stop even as his body seemed t pulse more slick from him and the scent of sickly sweet honey made the air thick with its scent.

Why wouldn’t it just stop?

.............

The scent of sickly sweet honey had every Witcher in the training grounds freezing. Geralt barely kept hold of his sword as every alpha instinct in him screamed to find the omega that was making that scent. “Fucking hell Geralt.” Lambert’s words were shaky as he spoke.

“I...I think I get what Triss and Yenenfer were talking about now.” Eskel admitted, amber eyes ablaze as he looked at Geralt. “You ok?” Geralt didn’t answer, heart beating a mile a minute. That was his omegas scent. underneath the sickly sweet honey he could smell wildflowers. The mixture was heady and had Geralt’s cock straining in his breeches. 

“I need to go.” Geralt growled, pushing past the Witchers in the grounds who were all staring at Geralt.

“Think I might take a few Witchers out hunting.” Letho, or maybe Gerd, muttered to hums of agreements from the Witchers around them as Geralt pushed past them.

................

Geralt skidded to a halt outside their rooms, the scent of his mates heat nearly making him fall to his knees as his blood seemed to pound in his ears. Fuck, that smell...he’d never smelt anything like it. It was fucking intoxicating.

Geralt didn’t event register pushing the door open, alpha pheromones coming off him as he stalked into the room and his omega. Only to freeze at the sight that greeted him. Jaskier was curled into a tight ball, blue eyes nearly blacked out from pupils that had gone huge in fear and arousal. At the sight of his alpha Jaskier let out a heartbreaking keening noise, body twitching as if Jaskier was trying to move away from Geralt but unable to.

That was an effective at shutting Geralt’s libido down as a bucket of ice cold water would have been.

Dropping to his knees at the side of the nest, Geralt looked at his omega as Jaskier whimpered, growing smaller somehow under Geralt’s gaze. “Please.” Jaskier whispered, words coming out broken and pain filled. “Please.” 

Geralt had no idea what please meant but he knew what Jaskier would want. “It’s ok Jask, I’m here.” Something in Jaskier’s mind not so consumed with fear and his heat must have heard and understood Geralt’s words as the sharp scent of fear that had been steadily mixing with the honey scent slowly disappeared.

“I’m here.” Geralt whispered, hand coming to push a sweat soaked strip of hair from Jaskier’s face. jaskier hummed, leaning a little into the touch. His skin was hot and clammy, not unlike the fever that had hit him when they’d gotten rid of the bonding mark and it left Geralt’s heart aching.

“You’re safe.” Geralt murmured as he pushed back the furs so he could climb in alongside Jaskier. Jaskier whimpered, hand twitching at his side as Geralt took in the sight of Jaskier’s clothes.

His chemise stuck to his body, near see through from sweat and something wet had soaked through Jaskier’s small clothes and breeches to leave wet dark patches all across his thighs and groin. “Fuck.” Geralt growled, suddenly wishing this was someone else here. He didn’t know what to do. Fuck, he didn’t know what to do.

................

“Ger...” Jaskier’s voice sounded distant when he tried to speak, like someone else was saying it. He could make out amber eyes framed by white hair, could see the fear in those amber eyes. All jaskier wanted to do was reach up and comfort his alpha but his hand just twitched uselessly at his side.

“I’m here.” Geralt’s words appeared as if from underwater but they grounded Jaskier in a way little else could. A warm hand took his own in hand and Jaskier hummed, eyes closing as slick dripped down his thighs. “What do you need?” Geralt’s question nearly didn’t reach Jaskier as a haze settled over his mind and he thinks Geralt might have repeated the question as he looked at his alpha confused.

“Too hot.” Jaskier whimpered, skin feeling itchy and confined in his clothes. His hand not holding Geralt came to pull at his chemise but he couldn’t bring it over his head as his body refused to cooperate.

“I’ve got it.” Geralt murmured. Jaskier hummed as gentle arms wrapped around his waist, lifting him up and pressing him against a bared solid chest.

His mind wandered as Geralt gently stripped him from his clothes and breeches before wrapping a light blanket over his body as the next thing he remembered was being pressed against Geralt’s side. He whined, cock hard were it was pressed against Geralt’s hips and he found his body grinding down needing some sort of friction. Shame curled low in his belly as his cock twitched and he came soaking the blanket wrapped around his middle in cum and slick.

“It’s ok.” Geralt’s voice again, a cool wet cloth gently wiping Jaskier’s thighs before another blanket was wrapped around him. “I’m here.”

...........

It was nearing dark when jaskier started to shout. The heat had raged Jaskier’s body for nearly 10 hours now, Geralt spending every moment of that 10 hours gently holding Jaskier as Jaskier whimpered and moaned beneath him. He wiped down every inch of Jaskier’s body, keeping it as cool as he could and cleaning the slick that kept dripping down and soaking the blankets within only an hour of it being wrapped around jaskier’s body.

He’d managed to get Jaskier to eat a little fruit a few hours ago, Jaskier barely aware but not protesting as Geralt fed him a few bites of the fruit. Geralt’s heart ached as Jaskier’s limp body sat heavily in Geralt’s arms, Jaskier’s eyes glazed over and obviously not seeing what was surrounding him.

A few times Jaskier had seemed to recognise Geralt, blue eyes lighting up in recognition as a gentle smile filled his face. it made Geralt’s heart warm to know Jaskier knew he was there. That Jaskier knew he wasn’t alone.

Except now Jaskier was shouting, body trembling in Geralt’s arms as his mate let out high pitched keens of pain. Of the little Jaskier had told Geralt of his heats, Geralt could only imagine what Jaskier’s mind must have conjured up for him and it made his heart ache in pain.

“I’m her Jask, you’re not alone, I’m here.” Geralt kept repeated, gently rubbing Jaskier’s arm and rocking his omega gently in his arms, hoping his words were somehow getting through to his Jaskier.

Blue eyes were glazed over completely, Jaskier’s mind not present as horrors from past heats flashed through him. Geralt didn’t stop though, just kept gently rocking and speaking to his mate, reminding Jaskier he wasn’t alone. “You’ll never be alone again Jask. I’m here. I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

As dawn slowly started to colour the sky red, the glazed look slowly disappeared from jaskier’s eyes as he looked up at Geralt with a hint of recognition. He tried to open his mouth but Geralt shushed him, instead grabbing a pitcher of water that Yennefer and Triss had been keeping full if the chaos in the air nearby was any indication.

“Drink.” Geralt hummed, Jaskier taking long gulps of the cup Geralt pressed to his lips.

jaskier blinked, eyes sluggish as he took in his surroundings. His brows knitted together, confusion clear in his eyes and Geralt so wished he knew what was happening in his omegas mind so he knew what to say. But he didn’t, so he just acted on instinct and reminded Jaskier: “You’re safe. We’re in Kaer Morhen.”

“‘m not alone?” Jaskier’s voice was heartbreakingly unsure, causing tears to sting in the corners of Geralt’s eyes.

“You’re not alone.” Geralt confirmed, burying his face in sweat soaked hair and pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m here. I promise.”

“Thought it was a dream.” Jaskier slurred, eyes drifting closed.

“It’s not a dream Jask, promise.” Geralt wrapped his arms tighter around Jaskier who hummed in reply, body limp in Geralt’s hold.

“My white wolf.” Jaskier smiled, hand twitching as if to take hold of Geralt’s hand.

..........

Jaskier’s heat raged for nearly 3 days. Geralt spent every minute of those 3 days holding Jaskier and rocking him through the agony of the heat. y the end of it all, he was exhausted and his heart ached more than ever.

At some point on the second day Jaskier had taken to crying out for his children, begging them not to hurt his children. It had torn Geralt’s heart in two and he’d sworn in that moment, rocking an hysterical sobbing Jaskier in his arms that he would make every single bastard that touched or hurt his omega regret every touching his Jaskier.

But somehow as the third day slowly started to begin, the heavy scent of honey disappeared, replaced once more with the calm heady scent of wildflowers. With the oppressive scent of Jaskier’s heat slowly disappearing Geralt found the tension in his body start to ease and he sagged into the nest as Jaskier’s body grew limp from sleep rather than his heat.

Geralt settled with his back against the large cushions Jaskier had placed to create a wall around his nest, pulling Jaskier to settle against his chest. Jaskier murmured in his sleep body shivering softly in the cold and Geralt grabbed one of the large furs to throw over them both. Jaskier hummed softly, head resting on Geralt’s chest as his breath evened into sleep.

As Geralt listened to jaskier’s even breaths, he found himself falling into sleep as well.

............

For the first time in to long Jaskier woke from his heat without a single aching pain in his body. Yes, he his body ached, but ached in the way it would after spending 3 days lying in a bed barely able to move. His muscles were stiff but there was no biting pain, no blood or other undesirable liquid seeping onto the mattress below him. He wasn’t covered in sweat and slick, his arms weren’t chain above his head, legs not forced apart to bare Jaskier’s arse to the room.

And instead of his head buried in a tear stained cushion, it was buried in the soft chemise of Geralt’s chest. Jaskier blinked sleepy blue eyes open to find Geralt soundly asleep above him. His alphas arms were wrapped tightly around him, holding Jaskier close in sleep. There legs were entwined, Geralt’s breeches tangled into the sheet covering Jaskier’s own body.

Jaskier’s face turned red as he remembered dim memories of Geralt changing him and cleaning the slick and cum from his thighs. As if sensing Jaskier’s discomfort, Geralt’s arms twitched around him, pulling Jaskier closer.

Jaskier let himself be pulled closer to Geralt even as shame curled low in his belly. he dipped his head to bury it into Geralt’s chest so he didn’t have to look at piercing amber eyes as they blinked open. “I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered, not daring to look at the disgust that would surely be in his Geralt’s eyes.

A hand trailed down Jaskier’s spine, dipping over scars there and making Jaskier shiver and whimper in further shame. He had been right, he didn’t deserve Geralt. He was a mess, covered in scars in both body and mind. He’d made a fool of himself allowing Geralt near him during his heat, no doubt caused Geralt undeniable pain just so Geralt could spend days cleaning slick from Jaskier’s thighs.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” Geralt voice was firm. “You have nothing to be worried for.”

“I hurt you.” Jaskier whispered.

“You haven’t hurt me.” Geralt promised and it was with such sincerity that jaskier found himself lifting his head to look at Geralt’s face. Where he had expected to find disgust and hate he only found love and comfort. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“My heat...” Jaskier started but Geralt hushed him as he gently stroked a hand through Jaskier’s hair.

“It didn’t affect me.” Geralt murmured.

“It...it didn’t?” Jaskier’s voice was filled with doubt as Geralt shook his head. 

“Come here.” Geralt released has grip on Jaskier so Jaskier could pull himself to settle on the cushion wall behind Geralt and rest his head in the crook of Geralt’s neck. The action made the blanket pull down so it sat low on his hips. A blush spread across Jaskier’s cheeks as Geralt hummed and grabbed a fur to settle around Jaskier’s shoulders.

“I don’t understand.” Jaskier whispered into the crook of Geralt’s neck, tears dripping down his face. All these years, all those alphas who had raped him just because of his heats. All the times he’d been blamed for the way he was treated, that it was his fault for making those alphas go into rut, that it was his fault Vizimir had been forced to take those babies not his own away from Jaskier.

“I won’t deny I wasn’t expecting the...” Geralt paused looking for the right words as he pulled Jaskier closer to his side before continuing, “I didn’t expect your scent to be so overpowering. None of us did.” Jaskier felt his face heat up in embarrassment even as Geralt soothed him with a gentle kiss to the head. “A few of the Witchers went hunting, they’ll be back in a few days with a virtual feast for us all.”

“I’m sorry.” jaskier whispered, guilt eating through him at the thought of the Witchers forced to leave Kaer Morhen because of him.

“Don’t be.” Geralt reassured him. “It’ll do them good to get out of Kaer Morhen for a while. Witchers start getting caged in after this long indoors.” jaskier chuckled softly at that, Geralt kissing his head again in response. “But no one barged in here. No one tried to hurt you. No one would have and I know they’re all more worried for you than anything else.”

“How?” Jaskier suddenly demanded, turning to face Geralt with pleading eyes.

“We’re Witchers, we aren’t the same as human alphas.”

“You meant to say if you were human things would have been different.” Jaskier pulled away from Geralt, a hint of hysteria in his voice. “That I would have been passed around and raped and...fuck...” Jaskier ran a hand through his hair as a choked sob escaped him.

“No.” Geralt’s voice was firm as he took Jaskier’s shaking hand in his. “Never, we would never ever have hurt you. Never.”

“But they always did.” jaskier shouted. “I made them rape me, my fucking biology made them want to hurt me.”

“No, they hurt you because they are cowards.” Geralt growled, anger and hatred lacing his tone as he gathered Jaskier into a hug. “No Witcher in Kaer Morhen will ever hurt you, not because they are Witchers but because you are pack.”

“Pack?” Jaskier whispered.

“Pack. Family.” Geralt confirmed, dropping his forehead down to rest on Jaskier’s. Jaskier felt his heart quicken as he suddenly plunged his lips against Geralt. Geralt hummed, letting jaskier lead the kiss, Jaskier pushing Geralt back against the mattress of his nest and deepen the kiss. Geralt’s hands came to settle around Jaskier’s waist to steady Jaskier as jaskier kissed his alpha as hard and as deeply as he could. 

When Jaskier finally stopped, both alpha and omega were near breathless as Jaskier came to settle against Geralt’s side. “My white wolf.” jaskier smiled as hands encircled his waist and pulled him close. “My family.”

“Always.” Geralt promised, kissing Jaskier’s neck just over the faded old bond mark. Jaskier shivered at the feeling of lips pressed in the sensitive areas but to his surprise no memories of another alphas teeth filled him. All jaskier could think as Geralt pressed his lips oh so gently in that spot was how right it felt. How right Geralt felt.


	26. Chapter 26

After his heat it seemed as though Geralt and Jaskier had never been closer. At first, as the haze of the heat faded and Jaskier was more clear headed, he’s felt embarrassed. Embarrassed and not the little bit ashamed of how he’d acted. Jaskier had expected Geralt to be disgusted by the omega, days of doing nothing but cleaning sweat and slick from Jaskier turning Geralt away from him.

But Geralt had been anything but disgusted. If anything, his heat had only made Geralt ,ore affectionate with Jaskier. Every time Geralt was near Jaskier, he seemed to have a hand on the omega. On his back, around his waist and pulling him close so he could smell his hair. Every time Geralt saw Jaskier in one of the long corridors of Kaer Morhen he always had a smile for his omega, and sometimes would abandon what he was doing just to walk over and give a blushing Jaskier a kiss.

Every night Geralt would wrap his arms around Jaskier and pull him close. Jaskier would lie there, wrapped in his alphas strong arms, surrounded by his scent and all of the doubt following his heat melted away into nothing.

It wasn’t just Jaskier’s relationship with Geralt, which was described one night by Lambert as ‘sickingly sweet, makes me want to throw up into my dinner,’ Jaskier’s relationship with the Witchers in Kaer Morhen changed as well.

Jaskier supposed it had been changing every moment since he first arrived in Kaer Morhen. At first the Witchers had all given the scared timid omega a wide birth, slowly warming to him as Jaskier started to spend more time in their company. But it wasn’t until a day, 2 weeks after his heat, that Jaskier knew he’d been fully accepted by the Witchers.

The rain had been pouring outside of Kaer Morhen in a chaotic storm for the last few days, leaving the inhabitants of the old castle stuck inside unless they wanted to be near drowned by the stormy weather. He and Ciri had been in the library, reading through a set of elven poetry when the rain had finally ended and the sun started to peak outside the clouds.

“Can we go outside?” Ciri pleaded the moment the sound of rain thudding against the glass had disappeared. Jaskier frowned in response, the refusal already on his lips as he imagined Yennefer’s anger at Jaskier letting Ciri bunk off her lessons. But it had been a long few days, even Jaskier starting to feel caged as they waited for the days to dry up enough to go outside.

“Ok.” Ciri had bounced, slamming the old book closed as she jumped to her feet. The old Jaskier might have felt trepidation at the thought of the punishment that would follow him encouraging Ciri away from her lessons, but now all Jaskier felt was a trembling of infectious excitement as he followed Ciri out of the library and down the old corridors.

What followed was perhaps the most fun Jaskier had ever had in perhaps his whole life. The grass outside was slick with mud, Jaskier almost slipping the second they stepped outside. Ciri had just grinned and raced off down the mud slick grass at top speed. Jaskier had grinned, following the young girl.

They both stopped, breathless and laughing, legs covered in mud in front of a rain swollen lake. “Lambert and I got all the geese in hot springs one year.” Ciri had grinned when her breath was back, emerald eyes shining as they watched the few geese that had arrived early to the mountains swim in the pond.

“And what did our dear Geralt have to say about that?” Jaskier chuckled, just imagining the frown and growl Geralt would give in response to seeing geese swimming around in the hot springs.

Ciri laughed. “Geralt’s no fun he just grunts and glares. Yennefer threated to turn Lambert into one of those geese though.”

Jaskier snorted on a laugh. “I can just see Lambert as a goose.”

“He said if she did he’d follow her around and shit on all her clothes.” Jaskier snorted, yes that sounded like something Lambert would say. “Come on.”

“What?” Jaskier startled, but Ciri was already pushing off her mud caked shoes and beginning to wade into the murky pond. “Ciri, I don’t think…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Ciri grinned. “And it’ll cheer up the Witchers.” Jaskier opened his mouth to protest again but Ciri interrupted him by splashing the cold muddy water at him.

“You…you…” Jaskier spluttered, already pulling off his shoes and following Ciri into the muddy water. His feet near sank into the mud at the bottom as Ciri laughed loudly, already wading away from him.

As it turned out, the Witchers that found them half way in the pond, soaked to the skin, were less than amused. Jaskier and Ciri though could barely stand up for laughing as Letho and Aukes through off their own cloaks and dropped one onto Ciri and one onto Jaskier. “You’re no fun.” Ciri pouted when she finally had her breath back, blonde hair plastered to her face.

“Witchers are stoic by nature dear one.” Jaskier grinned, earning a laugh from Ciri and what he swore was a twitch of a smile from Letho as Aukes slapped a hand on Jaskier’s back and started pushing him back towards Kaer Morhen.

“You’ll freeze. The both of you.” Aukes grunted as the two Witchers led them inside. 

“And if Yennefer sees you trailing mud in here she’ll castrate the two of us.” Letho growled. 

This seemed to subdue Ciri a little, and then a little more as Jaskier shivered into the cloak. Fuck, maybe wading into water in the middle of winter wasn’t the best idea. “Hot springs.” Ciri decided, stopping for a moment to glare at both Letho and Aukes. “And not a word of this to Geralt or Yennefer.”

Letho and Aukes shared a look before nodding solemnly, both hiding smirked on their faces. “As you wish cub.” Ciri nodded, raising her head haughtily as she lead the way down to the hot springs.

As Jaskier followed, he could feel anxiety slowly clawing at his chest. He’d been down to the hot springs numerous times now, but always with Geralt and every time he’d been here Geralt had made sure no one else was there. Logically Jaskier knew the Witchers would never hurt him, fuck Geralt would never allow it; but knowing something and believing it were two very different things and Jaskier had spent so much of his life associating the, specifically naked alphas, with pain and fear.

But what choice did have. Not only was he cold but he was caked in mud and pond water. He could go up to his rooms, strip off and sit by the fire but that somehow felt like a failure to all the progress he’d made. And how would he explain it to Ciri, Ciri who as if sensing Jaskier’s anxiety had grabbed hold of his hand as she led the way down the steep steps to the hot springs. In essence, he didn’t have a choice. 

As they walked into the hot springs, Jaskier felt his hands begin to shake as he took in the Witchers already here. It wasn’t filled and there was a pool sill free of Witchers, but the proximity of so many naked alphas had Jaskier’s heart spiking. The Witchers must have smelt his fear as a few turned to frown softly in his direction.

But Jaskier didn’t want to disappoint Ciri who was already stripping off and telling Jaskier to hurry up. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely undo the buttons of his doublet. By the time he was stripping out of his chemise, Ciri had already jumped into a pool. “Come on Jask.” Ciri shouted, smiling as she turned to see where Jaskier was.

Jaskier didn’t trust his voice to reply so he nodded, offering her a shaky smile as he turned to put his chemise and doublet draped over a rail by a fire so they could dry off a little. He didn’t even think about the mess of his back as he turned, didn’t think of the questions it would raise to Ciri who knew nothing of the horrors Jaskier ad endured. All he was thinking of was the all encompassing panic trying to escape him. That was until Ciri let out a strangled gasp and the room went dead silent.

Jaskier froze, back tense as he hears water splashing and the next thing he knew Ciri was asking, “you’re hurt?” Her voice was small, fear in her tone and Jaskier felt tears sting at his eyes as he imagined the pain in her face.

He closed his eyes, heart hammering in a painful beat as he went to pick up his shirt to cover the horrendous scars that had made every Witcher fall into disgusted silence and Ciri sound so scared. “It’s ok cub.” Letho’s voice was rough behind Jaskier, making the omega hunch in on himself as if to make him feel smaller. 

“But…they look painful.” Ciri’s voice was pained. “Do they hurt?”

“No.” Jaskier found himself saying. “They’re old scars.” 

“Like ours cub.” Aukes grunted, moving to stand in front of Jaskier and gently taking his chemise from where Jaskier had been holding it in a death grip. Jaskier looked up at Aukes, surprised to find no disgust there, only pain.

“You go them fighting monsters?” Ciri asked. 

“That he did cub.” Letho grunted. “Our bards a fighter.” Jaskier startled, turning to look at the room behind him. Every Witcher there looked at him with warm amber eyes, grunting their agreement with Letho’s statement.

“Come on, better get that mud off you before Geralt and Yennefer come looking.” Aukes grunted, hand coming to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder for a brief moment before releasing the bard. A silent tear ran down Jaskier’s face as all the anxiety and fear disappeared. The Witchers had turned back to their conversations but Ciri was still looking at him, emerald eyes filled with concern.

“You’re sure your ok?” Ciri asked and Jaskier smiled, surprised to find it was a real smile.

“I am now.” He promised.

……………….

With the Witchers acceptance of him fully solidified, Jaskier found himself growing bolder. Every moment he had spare, he spent it with the different Witchers of the different schools, listening to their stories. With the fear that had ruled over his life all but evaporated Jaskier spent every moment asking questions of every Witcher, wanting every tiny detail he could possibly gain of every story.

With each story, Jaskier found his mind filling with more songs and notes than he knew what to do with. Vesemir had given him a notebook when he’d found Jaskier in the library one afternoon, plucking his lute face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to remember the tune that had come to him the night before. 

Jaskier now spent every moment he could with the notebook in his lap as he played through the different melodies on his lute, sang variations on the same lyrics; all the while scribbling his findings into his fast filling notebook. 

When he debuted his first original song to the Witchers, he’d almost cried with joy as the Witchers thunderous applause echoed through the great hall. Before he’d only ever sung other bards songs, now singing his own he felt every ounce the bard he’d always been meant to be. 

With that new feeling though, an old craving started to fill Jaskier’s very bones. He’s always wanted to travel, wanted to see the world and sing his songs in every court, inn and backwater tavern in the whole continent. And as the snows of winter finally began to melt and the Witchers slowly started to travel down the path they called the Killer, Jaskier felt that yearning fill him tenfold. He wanted to go down the path to.

The only problem, Jaskier didn’t know if Geralt would allow it.

………………

Something was wrong with Jaskier. The last week it was like someone had flicked a switch and the joyous, overexcited bard that ran from Witcher to Witcher demanding stories and tales had reverted to the terrified anxiety ridden omega Jaskier had first been when he came to Kaer Morhen. Granted, it wasn’t near as bad as that first time but Geralt could practically feel the tension and anxiety filling through Jaskier whenever he was nearby.

It wasn’t just the sudden anxiety that had Jaskier twitching and startling easily (all brushed off with a to tight smile and a forced laugh) but things as well that had Geralt’s heart clenching. Jaskier had been affectionate ever since his heat, always leaning into Geralt’s side, smiling softly at Geralt. Every time Geralt kissed his omega, Jaskier blushed a beautiful pink, eyes flashing downwards as a smile overtook his face. Now when Geralt came to close Jaskier would tense up, all but flinching away from Geralt. And he was quiet. Too quiet for the talkative bard he had fast been becoming.

Geralt wasn’t the only one to notice this sudden change. The whole keep saw it and it put them all on edge as a result. Except for the life of him, Geralt couldn’t understand why Jaskier had suddenly reverted back. As far as he knew nothing had happened, no one had hurt him and Geralt trusted the Witchers enough to know they would never hurt Jaskier. Fuck, Jaskier was a part of their family now so Geralt couldn’t understand why Jaskier was so anxious. But he intended to find out.

As it turned out, Geralt didn’t need to do anything to find out what was wrong, Jaskier broached the subject himself. It was one evening, after Jaskier had debuted his newest song ‘Toss a Coin to your Witcher’, inspired by the time Geralt had been kidnapped by elves in Posada (as told by Eskel and a grinning Lambert). Jaskier had taken some…creative liberties as he did with all songs but as he’d told a grumbling Geralt, ‘respect doesn’t make history.’ Damn bards, they always had an answer for everything.

They were both a little tipsy, Jaskier from the wine he’d been sharing with Yennefer and Triss, and Geralt from the white gull Lambert had brought out. Jaskier was smiling, a proper smile which Geralt hadn’t seen in weeks. It had Geralt bending down and kissing Jaskier, who promptly blushed. “What was that for?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt hummed, arms wrapping around Jaskier and pulling his omega close so they were chest to chest where they stood in their bedroom. “Hums and grunts aren’t words you know.” Jaskier laughed as Geralt bent down to kiss him again. 

“I liked your song.” Geralt grunted into Jaskier’s lips. He expected a glowing smile from Jaskier, that was the way he usually reacted when Geralt praised his singing. But this time Jaskier tensed in his arms, stepping away as his gaze slid downwards. Geralt frowned, grabbing Jaskier’s hands to stop him from withdrawing completely. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Jaskier started before trailing off. His shoulders tensed and Geralt watched with mounting concern as Jaskier seemed to steel himself for something. “I wanted to ask you something.” Jaskier said, forcing his head to lift and eyes to make contact with Geralt. 

“Anything.” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier to sit on the edge of the bed. When Jaskier didn’t answer, Geralt felt his heart clench painfully. “Jask,” Geralt placed a finger under Jaskier’s chin, lifting it so amber eyes could meet blue ones. There were unshed tears shining in Jaskier’s blue eyes and panic flared in Geralt. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know.” Jaskier whispered, hands limp in Geralt’s. “But…” Jaskier took a long breath as he turned his eyes back to Geralt. “I want to go down the path.”

“What?” Geralt asked, startled at the question. It was the wrong thing to say as Jaskier pulled away from Geralt, shoulders hunching as the scent of wildflowers soured. “Fuck, I meant…” Geralt cursed as he grabbed Jaskier’s hands and squeezed them softly. “Why?” 

“I…I want to travel. To see the world, to be a travelling bard.” Geralt could see the doubt colouring Jaskier’s tone as Jaskier continued to hunch further in on himself. “It’s stupid, I’m an omega. I know I can’t but…”

“Why can’t you?” Geralt demanded, wincing at the forcefulness of his tone.

“I…” Jaskier trailed off, a frown settling across his face as he tried to think of an answer. Geralt already knew where Jaskier’s mind was heading though as he squeezed Jaskier’s hands softly.

“There is no reason. You are your own person and you can do whatever you want.” Jaskier looked at Geralt with surprise in those blue eyes. Fuck, he’s thought Geralt would tell him no.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Jaskier asked.

“No.” Geralt said, heart easing as Jaskier sank against Geralt’s side, breathing an audible sigh of relief. Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, all to aware of what this meant to his Jaskier. The fact he wanted to travel, wanted to fulfil a dream all but destroyed by his time with Vizimir. The wrong word from Geralt could mean shattering Jaskier apart, not the most helpful thing considering how bad Geralt was at words. “But, I don’t want you travelling the path alone.”

Jaskier tensed in his arms as a silent ‘oh’ fell from his lips. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go.” Geralt gently reminded Jaskier, pressing a kiss to his head. “You’re free Jask. You can go where and when you want.”

“But you don’t want me to go alone.” Jaskier whispered, Geralt already knowing Jaskier was seeing it as a refusal.

“The path is dangerous.” Geralt growled.

“Because I’m an omega.” Jaskier whispered as Geralt’s hold around him tightened. Silently Geralt said yes, because he knew every alpha would see an unclaimed omega on the path and feel they had every right to have there way with Jaskier despite what Jaskier himself would want.

But that wasn’t what Jaskier needed to hear so instead Geralt said, “because you’re human.” Jaskier looked up at him, blue eyes sparkling as Geralt continued. “Humans aren’t made for long periods on the path, it’s why Witchers were made so strong.”

“I understand.” Jaskier whispered except he didn’t. He only understood what his mind made him think. 

“You’ll need an escort.” Geralt growled, Jaskier pulling away from him to give Geralt a confused and surprised look. Geralt just hummed, pushing aside the protective alpha part of him that wanted to keep Jaskier close, to never let his omega leave his side again. No, Jaskier needed this. “I’d go myself but…”

“You’re the warlord of the Witchers Geralt, I can’t expect you to follow me around on the path.” Jaskier smiled but Geralt just hummed. He wanted to, more than anything. He could picture himself on the path with Jaskier, spending the days travelling, nights wrapped around each other under the stars. Fuck, Geralt had always hated that he’d been chosen to lead the Witchers, he hated it more than anything now.

“But there are other Witchers who can go with you.” Geralt growled. 

“They don’t need to.” Jaskier said.

“They’ll want to.” Fuck, if Jaskier disappeared down the path alone today Geralt had no doubt at least half the keep (if not all, including Yennefer, Triss and Ciri) would be following him down to hover overprotectively at his shoulder. “And they have experience on the path.”

“They wouldn’t mind?” Jaskier’s voice was so unsure and it broke Geralt’s heart that even now his Jaskier was so filled with doubt.

“They’ll be fighting over who goes.” Geralt promised, knowing he’d have a hard time choosing which Witchers he trust to protect his omega.

“I can be a bard?” Jaskier whispered, voice filled with awe as he looked at Geralt as if he’d just hung the moon.

“You already are.” Geralt murmured as Jaskier flung his arms around Geralt’s neck, pressing his nose there and crying softly.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s back, ignoring the pain in his heart as Jaskier said, “Thank you.” But as much as Jaskier’s joy was a near palatable thing, Geralt couldn’t help but feel his own heart breaking at the thought of months away from his omega.


	27. Chapter 27

Geralt felt his heart clench painfully as he helped Jaskier saddle Pegasus in the old Kaer Morhen barn. He’d wanted Jaskier to take Roach down the path, trusting the old mare to take care of Jaskier in his absence. Fuck, he’d lost count of the number of times Roach had carried his injured arse away from danger without so much as a command from him. But Jaskier wasn’t used to horses, hadn’t ridden one alone before 3 weeks ago, and Roach was more than a little hot headed. Jaskier had taken to bribing her with apples so she would stop chewing at his clothes when his back was turned.

Vesemir had been the one to suggest Pegasus. The gelding was a stubborn horse, more interesting in quiet calm walks rather than the athletic sprinting that was demanded of the Witchers horses. One of the Witchers had acquired him in a small town when his own horse had broken her leg and been unable to carry on. He’d sworn never to ride Pegasus again and much the Witchers were the same.

Geralt had been hesitant at Vesemir’s suggestion, Pegasus would want to run fast to get away from danger, the stubborn horse would probably canter slowly until coming to stop when it smelled something tasty to eat. But as Vesemir had pointed out, Jaskier wasn’t used to horses and despite his stubborn refusal for hard rides, Pegasus was an easy horse to ride.

Ciri had shown Jaskier the basics. As the snows cleared she and Jaskier went out every morning to ride. The first time they’d gone out Jaskier had collapsed onto the bed, glaring at Geralt as he smirked in response to Jaskier’s dramatic sigh. “I hate horses.” Jaskier had announced, but he’d still appeared the next morning for his lesson with Ciri. He’d even come early to help Coen much out the stables. That was also the time Geralt noticed Jaskier stuffing apples into his pockets for ‘horse bribery’ as Jaskier called it. “I can’t have them eating chunks out of my clothing. People will think I’m a vagabond not a bard if they do.” After 3 weeks, Ciri had gleefully announced Jaskier wouldn’t fall off his horse and Jaskier had bowed theatrically in thanks.

“You ok?” Jaskier’s voice broke through Geralt’s thoughts as he finished packing away the scent suppressants Triss and Yennefer had made for him. They wouldn’t work to fully get rid of his omega scent, nothing would, but they would work well enough that not every alpha in the town would instantly be enthralled and drooling over the scent of wildflowers. The thought of that happening sent a primal urge to lock Jaskier in their rooms and hold his omega close and never let him go run through Geralt.

Geralt grunted in response to Jaskier’s question, gaze turning to the straps of Pegasus’ saddle. Jaskier had done them himself, Vesemir having spent hours drilling the omega in the basics of horse maintenance, camping, cooking and all the basic survival tactics he’d need on the path. 

“Dear heart, what’s wrong?” Jaskier’s voice was soft as he came to cup Geralt’s cheek softly. His fingers had grown calluses from all the lute playing, no longer soft but rough against Geralt’s skin. Geralt liked them better like this, a physical sign of Jaskier’s new life as a bard. Soon he wouldn’t even need Geralt.

“I’m coming back you know.” Jaskier said as if reading Geralt’s mind. His blue eyes shined as he stroked his thumb over Geralt’s cheekbone. “I’ll only be gone a month and then I’m coming straight back.” Jaskier would be travelling through the inns of Kaedwen, having agreed the towns and villages under the White Wolf’s rule were safer places than trying to travel further into Temeria or Redania. 

“I know.” Geralt growled, dropping his forehead to rest against Jaskier’s. Jaskier hummed, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck and holding close. The scent of wildflowers filled Geralt and he felt a pang at his heart. He’d miss that scent.

“I’d stay if you asked.” Jaskier murmured. He would, Geralt knew that. Jaskier would abandon all his dreams and stay with Geralt if his alpha only asked. Except Geralt couldn’t do that. He couldn’t rip Jaskier’s dream away from him, not for his own selfish need to have his omega in his arms. Jaskier deserved this, he deserved to be free.

“I want you to go.” Geralt hummed. “Enjoy yourself. Sing, live. Be free.” Jaskier pressed a soft kiss to Geralt’s lips, smiling softly.

“I love you, you know.” Geralt just hummed in response, hands tightening around Jaskier’s waist. He never wanted this moment to end.

“Come on lovebirds. We keep dawdling we won’t make it down the Killer before nightfall.” Lambert shouted, voice echoing through the barn. Jaskier chuckled softly as Geralt growled in annoyance.

Geralt had agonised long and hard over which Witchers to send down the path with Jaskier. He’d wanted to send at least 10 but Vesemir had talked him out of that. “It will only frighten the people Jaskier wants to sing to. And 2 Witchers are as good as 50 men.” Geralt had grumbled and growled but unable to argue against Vesemir’s logic had very reluctantly agreed.

Lambert had been Geralt’s first choice. He trusted his brother more than anyone else to protect Jaskier, except beside himself, Eskel and Vesemir. Not to mention Jaskier and Lambert had grown quite close. Lambert wasn’t afraid to poke fun at the omega, treating Jaskier no differently than he did any other Witcher. At first Geralt had worried his brothers crass and rude nature would terrify Jaskier but Jaskier hadn’t minded. Fuck, Jaskier seemed almost grateful for it. Geralt supposed it made sense, the other Witchers (even himself) had walked on glass around Jaskier until they’d fully understood what Jaskier could and couldn’t take. Lambert had never done that, just instantly treated Jaskier like anyone else.

His next choice came easily after that. Aidan and Lambert travelled the path together often and the two fought well together. While Aidan wasn’t perhaps Geralt’s first choice in protecting Jaskier, he also knew no one else could get along with Lambert for the length of time they would be on the path for and Aidan, like most Cat Witchers, was seasoned in getting out of sticky situations. It helped that Jaskier got on well with the Cat, much to Geralt’s displeasure.

Geralt took hold of Pegasus’ bridle, leading the horse out of the stables. It was a good thing he had as well as the moment they exited Jaskier was nearly knocked over by hugging him. “I’ll miss you.” Ciri said as Jaskier knelt down so Ciri was a little taller than him and he could hug her properly.

“I won’t be gone long.” Jaskier promised. When Cir had first heard Jaskier was going down the path she had wanted to go with him and Geralt was afraid she would follow the omega down the path when they finally left, she’d done it before with Geralt. But Jaskier had resolved that. Geralt had no idea what Jaskier had told her but after he had spoken with Ciri, she decided she had to stay in Kaer Morhen ‘to make sure Geralt didn’t become to grumpy in Jaskier’s absence.’

As Ciri let go of Jaskier, Geralt took hold of his omegas hand to lift him back to his feet. Jaskier smiled at him before being engulfed in a hug from Triss. He brown frizzy hair went everywhere, hiding Jaskier’s face from view as the two hugged long and hard. “I hope you aren’t just singing about the Witchers out there bard.” Yennefer said as Triss let Jaskier go.

“Oh I have a few songs I’ve been working on about the beauty of our resident sorceresses.” Jaskier assured her, Yennefer smirking in response. 

“Look after him.” Triss turned to glare at Lambert and Aidan, both responding with an eye roll though Geralt knew they took Triss’ words to heart. He’d already had that conversation with the two of them, it was probably the first time he’d ever seen lambert or Aidan serious when they’d said they would look after his omega for him.

“Course we will.” Aidan said as Lambert walked over to place a hand over Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Gonna teach our omega here all the tricks of the trade.” Geralt growled a warning at Lambert’s words as Jaskier chuckled softly. “Come on buttercup, we need to get going.”

“Yeah, or Lambert’ll insist we stop for lunch.” Aidan grinned, dodging a whack to his head that Lambert aimed his way as he went to get onto his horse.

Jaskier paused for a moment, eyes fixed on Geralt with a soft smile on his face. “I’ll be ok you know.” Jaskier smiled. Geralt grunted, walking over to wrap his arms around Jaskier’s waist and pull him in close. 

“I’ll miss you.” Geralt hummed as he pressed his lips to Jaskier’s.

“I will to.” Jaskier smiled before dropping his gaze and blushing a little. “But I’ll be back in time for my next heat and…I was hoping…maybe you’d like to share it with me?” Geralt felt his heart fill as he bent down to devour Jaskier’s lips with his own, Jaskier laughing against his as they held each other close. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Jaskier grinned as he reluctantly pulled away.

Geralt hummed, a smile on his face as he watched Jaskier climb onto Pegasus’ back. As Jaskier’s horse trotted over to Lambert and Aidan’s and the 3 made their way down the path, Geralt couldn’t help the pain in his heart. It was only a month, Geralt reminded himself. Not to long. He could live that long without seeing his Jaskier. Even if he really didn’t want to.

………………

By the time they made camp Jaskier was aching in places he didn’t even know he could ache. While the throes of spring were truly around them now, there was still a nip in the air this high in the mountains and Jaskier’s fingers were numb in their gloves as they finally stopped in a clearing. Aidan had said it would take a few days to get down the mountain pass. They didn’t want to travel in the dark, a feat even Witchers were hesitant to do considering the treacherous path they walked, so the sun was still up as they made camp though Jaskier estimated it would be setting within the hour.

As Jaskier lifted himself from Pegasus’ back, his thighs screaming in reluctance to carry him after all day spent on horseback, he felt a sudden bout of anxiety fill him. Lambert and Aidan were like a well organised machine. Aidan was already pulling out bedrolls and blankets for the night, Lambert gathering sticks ready to start a fire. And Jaskier didn’t know what to do. Vesemir had shown him the basics of fire making, how to skin a rabbit and cook it, how to deal with minor injuries that occurred on the path (blisters, aches, minor cuts and the like) but it hadn’t occurred to Jaskier until now how utterly inexperienced he was in all this.

He clutched the lute strap hanging over his shoulder nervously, eyes scanning the clearing desperately trying to think of something to do. The two Witchers already had a pot going, steam rising from it as they cooked a simple stew with the food they’d taken from Kaer Morhen. 

“Lamberts got stew on, better grab some before this bastard eats it all.” Aidan shouted over, amber eyes blazing in the fire that Lambert had just got going.

“Think you mean you Cat.” Lambert responded, motioning Jaskier over.

Jaskier nodded, hesitantly taking a seat on a log as Lambert passed him over a large steaming bowl of stew. As the two Witchers dug in Jaskier took his spoon in hand, surprised to find a slight tremble there. He’d journeyed the path twice in his life. The first he’d been happy and excited, leaving what his 16 year old self deemed to be the boring life in Lettenhove for an extravagant city in a King’s court. He had arrived happy and filled with possibility and left a broken shell of himself. Terrified and fearful of every move the Witchers made, waiting for the Witchers to pin him down and rape him. Instead he’d received only kindness and love and freedom. It had been over 6 months but it felt like a lifetime ago when Vizimir was handing him over to the Witchers. Jaskier hadn’t even expected to survive a month, much less 6. Much less find love and freedom.

Fuck, it had been a long time since Jaskier thought about what those first few weeks, of how overwhelmed he had been; still was in a way. “You good buttercup?” Lambert growled.

“Lambert’s stew not up to scratch?” Aidan smirked as Lambert threw a piece of stale bread at his head.

Jaskier forced his mind away from the melancholy thoughts putting a smile on his face as he replied, “It’s lovey, you’d make a fine kitchen maid Lambert.”

“Dress wouldn’t suit him mind.” Aidan smirked, earning a genuine laugh from Jaskier.

“Fuck you both, I’ll have you know I look fucking fantastic in a dress.” Lambert grinned, earning and snort of laughter from Jaskier and a knowing eye roll from Aidan.

“And when did you have cause to wear a dress?” Jaskier grinned, knowing the beginning of a good story when he heard one.

“Well buttercup, that story involves a lost bet, too much white gull and the white wolf with his hair in plaits.” Jaskier choked on the stew he’d just taken a bit of as Lambert smiled smugly at him.

“I’m guessing Geralt wouldn’t be happy about you saying this.” Jaskier hazarded.

“The white wolf said if Lambert ever said that story in Kaer Morhen again he’d rip off his bollocks and feed it to a she-wolf.” Aidan grinned and Lambert shrugged.

“But we aren’t in Kaer Morhen. And I think buttercup here deserves to know what his alpha looks like in plaits and drunk off his arse.” Lambert smirked, Jaskier having abandoned the stew as he listened to every word Lambert said.

The rest of the evening fell into a pattern. Aidan following Lambert’s story with one of his own when he and the Cats had been living in the caravan. “This stupid arse noble underpaid us you see so we decided to have a little revenge of our own.” Aidan grinned.

“Saw the firework display those Cats let off in the middle of the night all the way from Kaer Morhen.” Lambert grinned to Jaskier’s laughter.

By the time it was time for bed the aches and pains of the day were all but forgotten and Jaskier’s belly hurt from laughing so much. But as he lay in his makeshift camp bed, , Jaskier couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness and doubt. Jaskier couldn’t help but feel the cold burrowing into him, wishing for strong arms to wrap around him and hold him safe. Without Geralt there to protect him, Jaskier suddenly felt very vulnerable. As doubt started to settle in, Jaskier started to truly consider if he could do this. Any of this. He was an omega, not an alpha and certainly not a Witcher. What business did he have travelling the path and pretending to be a bard? 

“I can hear you thinking from over here.” Aidan’s voice was soft in the darkness but it made Jaskier bolt upright, heart pounding. Aidan’s face was shadowed in darkness, the fire having dimmed as the 3 slept. A loud snore came from where Lambert was sleeping making Aidan snort on a laugh. “Idiot could wake an army with his snoring.”

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Jaskier found himself saying. “You should get some sleep.” Aidan shrugged, throwing more wood onto the fire.

“It’s my watch. I’ll wake Lambert for the next, mind that’ll make him a grumpy bastard for the rest of the day.” Aidan grinned, Jaskier’s heart clenching as he realised he hadn’t been included in the watch. 

“I can take a watch.” Jaskier started but Aidan shook his head.

“Witchers don’t need as much sleep as humans do.” But that wasn’t what Jaskier heard. All he heard was the shouting of his own mind, reminding him that he had no place here.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier whispered. “I know I’m not much help.”

“It’s your first time on the path.” Aidan easily said, as if it explained everything. And to the Witcher it probably did. “We all struggle our first time, even Witchers. Give it a few days and you’ll be a natural at it.”

“I want to help.” Jaskier tried, guilt flooding him because it wasn’t fair for the Witchers to have to pick up his slack while Jaskier got used to the path. Fuck, this wasn’t even the Witchers choice to be here, Jaskier had forced it when he’d said he wanted to go down the path. He should have just stayed at Kaer Morhen. He’d never follow his dream but at least then the Witchers wouldn’t have had to compensate even further for him.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Aidan grunted, amber eyes blazing. “You are helping, maybe not in the way you want to, but you are.” Jaskier levered Aidan a look that clearly said he didn’t believe a word the Cat was saying. Aidan snorted a laugh. “You look a lot like the kid with that look. Makes me think she’s yours.” Jaskier’s heart pained at that, hand coming to rest against his belly in memory of what he’d lost even as he smiled softly. He did care for Ciri, perhaps just as much as he’d cared for his own unborn children.

“It’s good having you around.” Aidan continued, pointedly ignoring the pain in Jaskier’s eyes. “He’s been happier than he usually is when he comes down the path.” Lambert snored even louder in his sleep as if in agreement.

“You shouldn’t have had to come just to watch me. I’m sorry.” Jaskier said, voice quiet but Aidan just shrugged again.

“No issue buttercup. It’s good to get out of those castle walls. Start to feel a bit penned in after the whole winter stuck there.” Aidan’s brow furrowed for a moment as if debating his next words before saying: “A lot of them don’t think you can do it. Make the humas like us. Fuck, there’s a reason we don’t travel the path as much as we used to. It’s not ‘cos we don’t have to, fuck there’s a lot that miss it. But having every village, town and city you enter filled with people glaring and spitting at you, calling you monster, throwing fucking rocks at you after you’ve just helped the ungrateful bastards. They call us unfeeling monsters but even monsters can feel their hate.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s not fair. You all deserve so much better” Jaskier said, heart breaking for the Witchers. Aidan just shrugged as if it was a normal occurrence.

“You’re the first person to say that. At least the first outsider.” Aidan grunted. “It’s why I believe you. When you said they’d get them to not fear us. I don’t think they’ll ever accept us but I think you could get them to at least not fucking hate us.”

“I’ll get them to accept you.” Jaskier said, voice firm even as doubt warred in his heart. He wanted to at least try. The Witchers deserved that much after all they’d done for him.

Aidan nodded, “I know you’ll try. Now get some sleep bard. I’m not dealing with 2 grumpy bastards in the morning.” Jaskier laughed at that, his heart lightened at least a little as he settled onto the camp bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

…………

They entered the first town 3 days after leaving Kaer Morhen. The sun had set a few hours ago but with as close as they were and the path evening out they’d wanted to press on. Aidan was looking forward to hot food that wasn’t Lambert’s cooking and Lambert a decent bed for the night. Jaskier himself was a bundle filled with nerves as he brushed Pegasus down in the inn stables.

The village was tiny, so tiny as not to really count as a village but it was the closet one to Kaer Morhen. That was perhaps the only reason the people of the town hadn’t batted an eye lid to the Witchers entering the town. They were used to Witchers here, perhaps not overly friendly but not downright hostile like other towns.

Once the horses were settled, Jaskier grabbed his own pack following Aidan and Lambert into the inn. His hand clutched his lute strap as tension and nerves filled him. Lambert bartered for the cost of the room, downright cursing the innkeeper under his breath as the man turned away to get the key to their room “Fucking robbing us blind. Bastards.” Aidan rolled his eyes, obviously used to the overpriced rooms and Lambert’s complaining. Those actions steeled Jaskier a little as he stepped out from behind the two burly Witchers.

The innkeeper handed Lambert the key before stiffening and turning his glare on Jaskier. Jaskier had taken the scent suppressants every night since leaving Kaer Morhen and he knew his usual wildflower scent was vastly diminished but in a small town that didn’t seem to have a single omega, Jaskier was all to aware of how much he stood out.

“I’d like you permission to perform good sir.” Jaskier smiled, forcing away the nerves and showing as much mock confidence as he could. The innkeeper sniffled his nose, frown depending.

Turning his gaze to the two Witchers, the innkeeper asked: “Didn’t know Witchers had omegas.” Jaskier felt Aidan and Lambert shift minutely, nothing noticeable but Jaskier who was used to the 2 Witchers after days of travel all but felt the change in their stances from uninterested to tense and ready for a fight.

“Bard’s his own person.” Lambert said, amber eyes narrowing. “Not our decision what he does and doesn’t do.”

The innkeeper seemed to sense the tension in the 2 Witchers as he shrugged and turned his gaze on Jaskier. “You sing tonight if you want. I’m not giving you freebies though bard.”

The word bard was meant as an insult but Jaskier particularly preened at its use, chest puffing up as he said, “Thank you good sir.” The innkeeper just grunted and turned away.

………….

Their room was small for the 3 of them, just 2 beds on either side. “You take that one.” Lambert grunted, already pulling out one of the camp beds to sleep on.

“And let you sleep on the floor?” Jaskier startled, refusal already on his tongue as Lambert smirked.

“No way. Cats sleep on the floor not me.” 

“Think he means wolves there. Never was good at biology our Lambert.” Aidan smirked, sitting on the bed and bringing his booted feet caked with mud from the path to sit on the blanket.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” Jaskier announced, seeing the 2 Witchers exchanging glances. Before either could argue though Jaskier simply said: “I’m an omega not a delicate flower. And if I sleep on this bed I may never be able to sleep on a forest floor again.”

Lambert and Aidan both considered him for a moment before Lambert shrugged and dumped his stuff onto the bed. After a moments thought Lambert threw the cushion from his bed at Jaskier. “No point you getting a creaked neck as well.”

……….

The inn was crowded, obviously word of a bard performing here having spread as there was an air of anticipation around. Jaskier felt a bit sick. The stew Aidan had gotten him was sat untouched in front of him, Jaskier’s stomach rolling at the very thought of food. Fuck, he didn’t think he could do this.

“Just sing some rowdy songs. Always gets the bastards up and interested.” Lambert said, taking a swig of his ale.

“Ok.” Jaskier breathed, barely listening to Lamberts words as he plucked at the strings of his lute nervously. A very big part of him wanted nothing more than to run back to his room and hide under the blankets and never come out. But this was his dream, to be a bard and he couldn’t be a bard without performing.

Jaskier’s legs wobbled and hands shook as he stood up and made his way to the front of the room. A few people watched him, the faint scent of wildflowers piquing their interest but most people ignored him. With the scent suppressants and the number of people in the inn they would be hard pressed to smell the omega amongst them.

Jaskier glanced over to where Lambert and Aidan had pulled out a pack of cards, Aidan lifting his mug of beer in encouragement as Jaskier’s hands fell to the strings. His hands shook and Jaskier forced himself to close his eyes and take a breath. With his eyes closed he could pretend he was back in Kaer Morhen, Geralt in front of him a smile on his face as he listened to Jaskier work through a particularly difficult piece of music that just wouldn’t translate out of his head well enough.

As Jaskier began the beginnings of ‘Toss a Coin to your Witcher’, a few people around him went silent as they listened. Jaskier didn’t pay attention though, letting the music flow through him. He could feel the nerves disappearing, replaced with the heady sensation the performing always gave him. 

As he finished a smattering of applause ran around and Jaskier grinned, giving a theatrical bow before launching into his next song. The next few he played where well known songs, meant to get the crowd involved and listening. A few people shouted out suggestions and Jaskier launched into those songs as well, glad he’d paid enough attention when the court bards had come to Tretegor to know the songs suggested.

As the suggestions trailed off Jaskier launched into a few of his own songs, the villagers surprising him when they started to pick up the chorus after a few rounds. He re-sang ‘Toss a Coin to you Witcher’, earning him a loud round of drunken applause and some of the more drunken villagers even tossing coins at the two Witchers seated at the back, earning a glare from lambert and a snort of amusement from Aidan.

By the end of the night all of the nerves Jaskier had felt had vanished. He had a good gathering of coins that were thrown at him during his performance. Buying the two Witchers an ale each Jaskier sauntered over to them, face alight with a smile and body vibrating from the high of his performance.

“Those bastards better not starting throwing coins at me every time.” Lambert growled, glaring at a few villagers who stopped by their table to say thanks to Jaskier. Jaskier just laughed, taking a long swig of his ale and sending a blinding smile at Lambert.

“That my dear Witcher is the price of fame.”

“Fucking bards.” Lambert grumbled.

Yes indeed, Jaskier thought with a bright smile on his face. He was a fucking bard.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few mentions of inappropriate touches and references to possible sexual assault in this chapter but nothing graphic and nothing actually happens. But please be warned and if you aren’t comfortable, please do NOT read.

After the first few inns Jaskier sang in, people started to recognise his songs. At the 5th inn, when someone had specifically requested Toss a Coin to your Witcher and the whole inn had shouted the chorus along with Jaskier’s singing, Jaskier had been almost stunned speechless. But he was a bard and would not be stunned into speechlessness when there were songs to be sung.

After that, Jaskier grew more confident in his boarding abilities and even started to play more and more of his own songs. His most popular song though remained Toss a Coin to your Witcher, each inn he sang it in showing their appreciation by tossing coins at a growling Lambert and a smirking Aidan.

It seemed that as Jaskier’s songs grew more popular, villages passing them on ahead of the travelling bard and Witchers at such a speed it astounding Jaskier, that the Witchers were being treated more amicably. Lambert had damn near dropped his ale when one of the village ladies one night came up blushing and stuttering, asking if Lambert would like to buy an ale for her. Aidan had nearly keeled over in laughter while Jaskier couldn’t help but smirk with how suddenly Lambert of all Witchers had been rendered speechless.

Jaskier had expected some resistance of him being an omega bard. Even with Lambert and Aidan there he’d expected at least a few brave alpha’s to try something. But none did. Don’t get him wrong, there were certain alphas that Jaskier knew from the way they looked at him would have tried something had he been alone but Lambert and Aidan’s amber glare was enough to scare off most.

He was also surprised to learn that omegas weren’t universally treated the way he was. One of the villages they travelled to early on, Jaskier had nearly run into a heavily pregnant omega. She’d been a good 6 years older than Jaskier, a huge alpha almost as big and muscular as Geralt was by her side. She’d taken one look at Lambert and Aidan behind Jaskier before linking her arm through his and dragging him away. Her alpha stood with his arms crossed glaring at the two Witchers who just shrugged and glared back.

“Do you need help?” The omegas voice was blunt, hand coming to rest on her heavily pregnant belly. Jaskier could only stare at her dumbfounded. “My alpha owns the farm and we have plenty of room.” She grasped Jaskier’s hand in hers, brown gaze soft as she stared at Jaskier. “We can give you a place to stay until you get back on your feet.”

“I don’t need somewhere to stay.” Jaskier had said, the omega just glaring at him in disbelief.

“I’ve heard what Witchers do to omegas.” Fuck, she thought she was saving Jaskier from the Witchers.

“Lambert and Aidan. They might look a bit mean and lambert’s got a mouth on him no ones business but they would never hurt me.” Jaskier said, surprised to find the words only months ago he doubted himself came so easily now.

The omega woman just looked at him, a doubtful look on her face. “You’re sure?”

Jaskier nodded, hand coming to grab the lute strap on her back. “I’m a bard. I’m hoping to sing at the inn tonight. My songs are about the Witchers, the truth about them. Come listen to yourself.” She’d looked doubtful but nodded her head anyway, moving to usher her alpha away front he two glaring Witchers. Jaskier was a bit surprised to find her alpha looking back, what looked like a concerned frown on his face.

“You good buttercup?” Lambert grunted, throwing an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier just nodded, deep in thought.

The omega and her alpha did come by that night, listening to their songs and at the end they came up to Jaskier again. “I still don’t trust them.” She glared at Lambert who grinned with all his teeth and Aidan who was twisting a dagger between his hands.

“You should.” Jaskier said, smile fond as he looked back to the two Witchers sitting there. “They’re good men. Good alphas.”

Her alpha came forwards, brown eyes piercing as he looked at Jaskier. Aidan actually stood up as the alpha let out strong alpha pheromones, coming to stand at Jaskier’s side as Lambert rested his hand in warning on his sword hilt. “You need anything you come down to my farm. Name’s Raf and my wife’s Susie.” 

“Bard said he’s fine here.” Lambert growled, voice vibrating from the tables.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, placing a hand on his hip and glaring at Lambert. “The bard can also speak for himself.”

Lambert held his hands up as Aidan suppressed a snort. “I know that buttercup but Geralt’ll bloody castrate me and the Cat if we don’t defend you.”

“Speak for yourself wolf, if something happens I wasn’t going anywhere near Kaer Morhen for the next century.” Aidan laughed.

Jaskier chuckled, turning back to Susie and Raf to find them both wearing identical looks of confusion, and perhaps a tiny bit of relief. It made something twist in Jaskier at the thought that these two strangers were willing to help him without evening knowing him, when in all the years he was trapped in Tretegor he never once heard from his parents. It hurt, more than Jaskier thought it ever would.

........

Not everything was plain sailing of course. There were a few minor incidents, and perhaps 1 panic attack. A few inn keepers took one look at the omega with a lute on his shoulder and smirked. “That’s not the type of trade anyone here would be interested in from an omega.”

Aidan had to physically restrain Lambert from shoving a dagger into the bastards shoulder as Jaskier stood clutching his lute strap, heart pounding. There were a few inn keepers, and towns, like that. Where the alphas and betas looked down there noses and basically told Jaskier he would do better on his knees than with a lute in his hand. They didn’t stay in those inns or towns, choosing instead to camp on the outskirts, Jaskier quiet and unspeaking for the remainder of the night while Lambert disappeared for a night of hunting. Aidan, like he did with most things, just shrugged it off but Jaskier could see the glare in the Cat’s eyes as he looked at the people who said it.

It wasn’t just crude remarks either. A few alphas came up to Jaskier and offered to take him in, like he was some lost stray in need of rescuing. Unlike the offer Raf and Susie had given, Jaskier knew exactly what these alphas wanted. They wanted to mate with him and keep him like a trophy in their homes to show off to their friends. The thought had Jaskier and those nights he laid awake for hours, knowing the nightmares would come the moment he closed his eyes.

There had only been one incident where an alpha had touched him. Jaskier had passed a large group of them, holding 3 cups of ale and on a performance high as he made his way to where Lambert and Aidan were bent over a game of gwent. The slap to his arse had surprised Jaskier so thoroughly, he’d dropped the ale onto the floor.

“Come on whore, open your legs and show us a good time.” The drunken alpha grabbed Jaskier around the waist, pulling him onto his lap, his already hard cock pressing against Jaskier’s arse.

Jaskier’s breath had come hard and fast, images of a different time and a different place flashing through his mind. Of hands unwanted, grabbing and pulled, forced to sit naked and bounce himself on someone’s cock or face Vizimir’s anger.

He didn’t remember pulling the knife out, much less turning and pressing it against the alpha’s hard cock. “Better get off him before he cuts it off.” Aidan growled as he and lambert came to stand in front of the group of alphas.

Jaskier’s breathing was hard, panic flaring in his chest as the alpha slowly raised his hands in surrender. As Jaskier stood up, the alpha and his friends all but ran from the two Witchers and omega, muttering: “crazy omega whore.”

“Buttercup?” Lambert’s gruff voice broke Jaskier from his trance and he dropped the knife, breathes coming out in panicked gasps. A hand placed on his shoulder had Jaskier’s mind blacking out for a moment as memories of other hands touching, other hands grabbing filled him.

Jaskier all but ran from the inn, heavy footsteps following as Jaskier gasped for air. He clawed at his doublet, suddenly the material feeling to tight and constricting as panic flared in him. He couldn’t breath. Fuck, he couldn’t breath.

“Come on Jaskier, breathe in and out.” Lambert’s voice was edged with panic as Jaskier turned tear filled eyes on the Witchers amber ones. He didn’t even remember beginning to cry but ow he was aware of it an all powerful sob built up inside him that came out as a choked sound. He ended up on his knees, somehow, Lambert knelt in front of him. “Come on bard, follow my breaths. In and out.”

Lambert placed Jaskier’s hand on his chest, exaggerated his breathing. Jaskier forced his breathing to match Lambert’s, mind wandering back to another panic attack, another alpha doing this for him. Fuck, he missed Geralt.

It took a long time for Jaskier’s breaths to return to an even pace and when they finally he did he felt a bone weary exhaustion flood him. Lambert supported him back to their rooms, a hand wrapped tight around Jaskier’s waist as they climbed the old stairs before lambert pushed the bard into his own bed. 

“You sleep there.” Lambert growled when jaskier tried to protest. Jaskier just nodded, panic still to fresh in his mind for him to argue against Lambert’s words. “Fuck, buttercup.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier whimpered, winced at how rough and small his voice sounded. 

Lambert turned wild amber eyes on him. “You’re sorry. What the hell are you sorry for? It was those piece of shit alphas.” jaskier felt tears run down his face, causing Lamber to curse again and come and sit by his side. An awkward arm wrapped around his shoulder and Jaskier felt himself leaning into lambert’s side, fully crying now. “I’m no good with this shit.” Lambert growled.

“You’re doing pretty good so far.” jaskier laughed, Lambert just growling in answer.

The door to the room opened and Jaskier flinched, trying to make himself as small as possible next to Lambert. lambert’s arms tightened subconsciously around Jaskier as he glared at Aidan walking into through the door. “Where the fuck have you been Cat?” Lambert growled, only not yelling because Jaskier was damn near cowering into his side.

Aidan just shrugged, wiping a bloodied knife with a handkerchief before passing a flagon on ale to Jaskier and Lambert. “Making sure those bastards knew what it means to fuck with the Witchers bard.” Aidan grunted, Jaskier staring at him in wide eyed shock as Lambert grinned.

“Wish I could have fucking seen it.” Lambert growled, releasing Jaskier so he could take a swig full of his own ale.

“You didn’t have to.” Jaskier whispered, eyes downcast as he only stared at his own ale.

“Your family bard. We protect family.” Aidan shrugged, turning back to cleaning the blood from his knife.

jaskier did have nightmares that night, bad ones. Ones that left his sweating and screaming from memories of hands forcing him

..............

All in all though, the journey had gone better than Jaskier had ever expected. He’d fallen into the Witchers routine well, carving himself a place in the camp and relieving Lambert of his dreadful cooking abilities as Aidan put it. 

But most importantly, he’d done what he said he would do. On the villages they passed back through on their way back to Kaer Morhen, the villagers sang his songs back at him, grinning and tossing coins at the Witchers as they passed. And everywhere that Jaskier’s songs travelled, the stink of fear and hatred towards the Witchers lessened.

“You sure you haven’t got any mage in your blood buttercup.” Lambert growled as they ate a rabbit Lambert had hunted earlier down the path and Jaskier had cooked using a few herbs and spices he’d picked up in one of the towns. They were on the path home now, a few more days and Jaskier would be back in Geralt’s arms, it left him smiling happily at his rabbit.

“Not a drop.” Jaskier grinned, taking a large mouthful, grease running down his chin.

“Don’t believe you.” Lambert grinned. “No way you can bring the white wolf to heel and make those village bastards like the two of us without a bit of mage in you.”

“Bring the white wolf to heel?” jaskier laughed at Lambert’s choice of words, the Witcher just smirking at him.

“You buttercup have Geralt wrapped around your finger.” Aidan grinned. “He’ll do anything for you.”

“Fuck, I think you might have most of the keep wrapped around that finger.” Lambert grinned.

“Not you?” Jaskier said, batting his eyelids at Lambert who choked on his rabbit and Aidan smirking into his.

“Nah, I’m immune to your charms buttercup.” Lambert dipped his finger into the grease pooling on his pants and flung it at Jaskier. 

Jaskier guffawed, “you brute. Do you know how much this costs?” The affect was rather ruined by Jaskier laughing as Lambert just smirked.

“You love us really buttercup.” lambert grinned.

“No, absolutely not. After you have ruined my best doublet I shall never forgive you.”

“That’s your best?” Aidan grinned. “Thought it’d be that blue one Geralt likes you in so much.”

“Yeah, made him go weak at the knees when he saw you in it the first time.” Lambert added, Jaskier feeling his face burn in a light blush.

“And the third, and forth.” Aidan added, coming to drape an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Fuck, every time really.” Lambert finished, Jaskier now a deep shade of red as his heart thudded. Geralt had liked him in that doublet, it made Jaskier’s heart do funny things.

“And you don’t think we notice you writing all those songs about Geralt. When you gonna write one about us.” Lambert grinned, coming to sit on Jaskier’s other side and knock his shoulder playfully against Jaskier’s. Jaskier just blushed further as Lambert and Aidan chuckled. 

“You know buttercup, makes us think you do’t love us as much as the wolf.” Aidan said.

“Yeah, makes us all feel left out.” Lambert grinned.

“Well we can’t have that now can we.” Jaskier said, grabbing his notebook and quill from his pack, dinner all but forgotten. “Now I need details and maybe, just maybe I can make a song out of it.”

The night went past with Lambert and Aidan trying to outdo each other with tales of their greatness, Jaskier writing furiously as already a dozen decent lyrics started to form. By the time he went on the path next he’d have dozens more songs to sing.

.........

Geralt had been sullen ever since watching Jaskier go down the path. Without the omega here, the whole of Kaer Morhen suddenly felt so drab. Every night Geralt would lie in his bed, head buried in the cushion Jaskier slept in, inhaling that heady scent of wildflowers and wishing above all else to have his Jaskier in his arms.

His brooding, though Yennefer called it ‘sulking’ which Geralt refused to use to describe himself because he wasn’t a child, had left Geralt in a foul temper. Most of the Witchers left him to it, knowing from experience that Geralt’s broodiness made the already stoic Witcher impossible to talk to.

Ciri had rolled her eyes within a week of Jaskier being gone and told him she’d never seen such a lovesick fool in all her life. Geralt had just grumbled and growled, earning him an eye roll from Ciri as she walked away in her best impression of Yennefer, which was a scarily accurate impression if Geralt was honest.

And now, over a month of mooning and brooding, Jaskier was finally home. And Geralt was stuck in a fucking council meeting. 

When Vesemir had dragged Geralt into the council room that morning Geralt had damn near snarled at the man because word had reached him moments ago that Jaskier, lambert and Aidan had just gotten in the stables. Geralt had wanted to run that way then and there and hug his omega and never let him go. Except now Vesemir was making him go into a council meeting...and maybe Yennefer had been right about him sulking.

Yennefer and Eskel were already there as Vesemir and Geralt walked in, the old wolf closing the door with a weary sigh. Eskel’s amber eyes had looked at Geralt, fists clenched in fury and even yennefer had looked angry though you’d have to know her well to see it.

“What happened?” Geralt demanded, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible so he could go and find his omega.

“Redania troops were seen near our borders.” Eskel stated, Geralt growling in anger. “They haven’t entered Kaedwen yet but they’re camping in the border towns.”

“Fuck.” Geralt growled, hands clenching into fists as anger ran through him. Those fucking bastards. 

“We need to end this.” Vesemir growled, voice calm even as his amber eyes blazed. “They’re undermining the treaty.”

“They haven’t done anything yet.” Yennefer’s voice was firm. “If we attack first then it will be us starting a war not them.”

“Why else would they bring armoured soldiers to our borders if they didn’t intend to attack.” Eskel demanded.

“To antagonise us into starting a war. Vizimir wants to make it look like you started this, it will make the other Northern Kings sympathetic to his cause.” Yenenfer turned violet eyes onto Geralt, voice firm as she said: “We can’t engage.”

“Yennefer’s right.” Vesemir stated, voice calm as he turned to Geralt. “If the other Northern Kingdoms come to Vizimir’s cause even our Witcher army won’t stand against them.”

“Fuck.” Geralt cursed again, anger coursing through him. That fucking bastard. Vizimir had signed a fucking treaty, had handed over Jaskier (in fairness that had been the best thing that fucker had ever done) as insurance of that treaty being held. Vizimir knew full well what the Witchers would do to his insurance should he try and break the treaty. It was just another reason to prove the bastard. Had never cared for Jaskier. Fuck, Jaskier deserved better than a man willing to barter with his life over a few more acres of land. it didn’t matter that Geralt would never hurt Jaskier, none of the Witchers would. All that mattered was Vizimir thought they would. Though the sick bastard probably already thought they had, the sick bastard probably believed the rumours of Witchers monstrous ways and had given Jaskier to them believing the omega would be torn apart as the Witchers fucked him. It made Geralt sick just thinking about it.

“Geralt, what do you want to do?” Vesemir’s voice was calm as all eyes turned to Geralt. Geralt cursed. He’d never wanted this responsibility, he didn’t want to be responsible for ordering his Witchers to war or possibility their deaths. But he had it, and what choice did he have.

“Have the Witchers come to Kaer Morhen. All of them.” Geralt growled, voice edged as he looked to Yennefer. “If it comes to it I want them ready for war.” 

“I’ll pass on the message. It’ll take a month or 2 to get them all here.” Geralt nodded, already turning to leave the room as Eskel left. He knew he should stay longer, discuss what they would do when they were all here or if Redania made a move to cross their borders before they’d erased the full Witcher army, except Geralt didn’t want to do that. All he wanted to was to hold his omega close and tight in his arms.

..........

Geralt found Jaskier in the great hall with Lambert, Aidan and Ciri. The 3 looked exhausted but animated as Ciri demanded every tiny detail of what had happened. Geralt found himself pausing in the doorway, eyes travelling to jaskier as a smile filled his face.

Jaskier was glowing. There was a happy radiance to him as he regained Ciri with tales of the path. His blue eyes were bright, like the ocean sparkling in the sunlight. There was a healthy glow to his skin from the sun, making him look healthier than he had all winter. His clothes were dirty from the rode but it just added to the image. it made Jaskier look even more the travelling bard he’d always wanted to be.

Lambert and Aidan elbowed each other with a snort as Jaskier’s eyes lifted and his gaze fell on Jaskier. Geralt heard Ciri chuckle as Jaskier made his apologies and made his way over to his alpha.

Geralt met Jaskier half way, arms wrapping around Jaskier’s waist at the same time as Jaskier’s arms wrapped around Geralt’s neck. “I missed you.” Jaskier murmured, pressing his lips to Geralt’s.

Geralt let himself get lost in the scent of wildflowers surrounding him, of the weight of his Jaskier in his arms and the soft feeling of his lips pressed against Jaskier’s. For this one moment, Geralt could forget everything else but the feeling of the man he loved in his arms.


End file.
